


Things Still Left to Say

by windbloom



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/F, Hook-Up, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Love Triangles, Pining, Power Dynamics, Rivalry, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Tags May Change, Time Skips, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:42:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25699741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windbloom/pseuds/windbloom
Summary: Lonnie couldn’t remember what it used to be like, when they were all just kids. Did she notice things then, like she did now? Was it easier to look away? Had it been simpler then, to just close her eyes and fall asleep? Easier still, way back when, to wake up and face the day head on?
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Catra/Lonnie (She-ra)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from _Things Still Left to Say_ by Mal Blum

Lonnie couldn’t remember what it used to be like, when they were all just kids. Did she notice things then, like she did now? Was it easier to look away? Had it been simpler then, to just close her eyes and fall asleep? Easier still, way back when, to wake up and face the day head on? 

She couldn’t find the time to remember how things used to be, and she didn’t want to. Not really.

Because she already had a lot going on, as it was. There were her training responsibilities, and those were the easiest to throw herself into. There was her self-imposed obligation to Rogelio and Kyle, to be there for them; as teammates and slowly, but surely, as friends. There was the heavy burden of the Force Captain’s watchful gaze, and all their many expectations. There was just… life, in the Fright Zone, and all the viscerally violent tolls one had to pay, just to exist. 

There was a lot for Lonnie to be concerned with; to be distracted by.

But mostly, there was Adora and Catra.

She couldn’t even say the one name, without the other. How could she, with their being so inseparable, and especially lately? But hadn’t it always been like that? Hadn’t Lonnie always been the one, watching with a scuffed knee when she and Catra took a tumble during training, as Adora rushed to Catra’s side to help her up? And when Catra laughed and pushed Adora away, wasn’t it Lonnie who saw the way Adora’s quiet, steel-blue eyes tracked Catra as she ran off?

It had been a mistake, Lonnie realized just a little too late, for her to pay so much attention. It had been an error to care. Now, she couldn’t stop herself. Now, she recognized every hesitant glance, every tentative tone of voice; every single tell between the two of them. In the commissary, or during training, and especially in the locker room or their shared barracks, she could barely concentrate on anything but the subtle interplay of two struggling hearts.

As they all grew older, everything became more refined, sharper, _harder_. And there was something new. A feeling Lonnie hadn’t had the time to think about with all her many responsibilities, despite being so painfully, achingly aware as it grew.

An electric twisting and turning in the pit of her stomach, that rose into her chest when she saw Adora slam Catra to the sparring mat with a self-satisfied smirk. A burning heat, exploding up into her neck and across her cheeks, when she heard the sound of fabric as Catra pulled her jumpsuit down past her shoulders, behind her in the locker room. A restless, weightless, almost nauseous sort of feeling, when she heard Catra climb down from her top bunk and slide into Adora’s bottom bunk, nestled by her feet with a contented sigh, purring loudly while Adora snored.

Lonnie decided then to fight this lack of control, this _weakness_ , as earnestly and powerfully as she had done, and been _trained_ to do, with everything else in her life. 

If she could fight it, she could kill it. 

And if she could kill it, things could go back to normal. Whatever _that_ meant.

What she didn’t know then, was that she was going to be really, really bad at that particular sort of fighting.

* * *

“Thanks for the save, by the way. You were awesome!”

Adora’s voice traveled through the locker room and echoed in Lonnie’s ears. 

“Just doing my job,” Lonnie replied humbly as she smiled to herself and lifted a hand to rub at her neck.

For most of the cadets in the Horde, Lonnie included, compliments were few and far between. A compliment from _Adora_ was at the top of Lonnie’s list of things that could send her over the moons. Because Adora was special. Everyone knew it. Listening to the Force Captains’ impressive commendations about Adora’s innate skill and hungry determination was one thing. Overhearing Shadow Weaver’s whispered approvals as she led Adora away from the squad to study with her _personally_ , well, that was next level. Lonnie had always meant to keep her head down and get her work done, but there was a small part of her that couldn’t help getting swept up by it all. 

“Did you see Kyle, though? I didn’t think he could do the splits,” Adora said with a small chuckle as she pulled off her wrist guards and set them neatly into her locker.

“I’m not sure he actually can. _Ouch_ ,” Lonnie teased, her hazel eyes narrowing with delight at Adora’s unrestrained laughter.

At that moment, Catra appeared at the threshold of the locker room’s doorway. She had stopped upon hearing the sound of Adora’s laughter. Catra looked between the two of them, and her expression hardened. Lonnie glanced down to Catra’s hands, and noticed the way they were balled up into two tight, claw-retracted fists. 

“You’re back,” Adora said, sounding relieved as she smiled hopefully in Catra’s direction. Catra walked resolutely past, ignoring the two of them entirely, as she made her way towards her own locker.

Adora was special. Everyone knew it. Everyone, it seemed, except _Catra_. It was like she was fighting against the very concept, the Force Captain’s words, and Shadow Weaver’s whispers all at once. And sometimes, Lonnie thought, it seemed like Catra was just desperately fighting against Adora herself. Lonnie’s muscles tensed instinctively as Catra neared her locker, a couple lockers down from Lonnie’s own.

Lately, it seemed like fighting was all Catra wanted to do.

But two could play _that_ game.

“Finally decided to join us?” Lonnie challenged, shaping her words like a strike.

Catra’s left ear twitched at the sound of Lonnie’s voice.

“She was late because-” Adora started, but Catra cut her off.

“Who cares? I’m here now. Let’s go.” Catra growled angrily as she pulled her locker open with a slam. Her training gear tumbled haphazardly out from the topmost compartment and fell to the floor. She took in a sharp, deep breath and closed her eyes.

“Training’s over,” Lonnie said simply, expertly concealing the frustration in her voice with a fine layer of bullying playfulness; the kind of aggressive, harsh handling that they had grown up to; the only way the two of them had ever managed to consistently treat each other.

“You missed it, _again,_ ” Lonnie continued, smirking as Catra’s eyes opened to two narrowed slits.

Catra stilled. Only her tail continued to move, flicking to one side, and then the other.

“Don’t worry though,” Adora added quickly, almost apologetically, “I covered for you. But we passed! We’re on to the next round.” 

As Adora spoke, Catra lowered herself gingerly down, concealing her expression from the both of them as she made to pick her gear up piece by piece. It seemed to Lonnie like Catra was moving slowly, as if her muscles ached, and idly she wondered how that could be, when Catra had so carelessly decided to skip out on the day’s training.

“I don’t care,” Catra countered angrily, “Like, at all.”

Adora pursed her lips as her brows knitted together. It was typical, Lonnie thought bitterly, for Adora to pull back from Catra’s hostility, so that it was always Lonnie who felt the need to push the conversation forward. Because what did _Lonnie_ have to lose? 

Lonnie’s combative smile widened into a full-on grin as she took a step closer towards where Catra squatted down.

“Oh yeah? Well, the team did great, despite being down a player. Even Kyle contributed,” Lonnie announced boldly, watching with laser-focused intent as Catra stood up, stuffed her gear back into the locker and closed it, hoping against hope that maybe this time, _this time_ , something would change. Maybe this time, Catra would finally hear her and realize just how badly her recklessness continued to hurt them. _All_ of them. She set her jaw, biting down on the inside of her lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

“So, I guess what we’re trying to say is that if you’re not going to show up, maybe we don’t really _need_ you at all.” Lonnie spoke the lie, knowing how deeply it would cut, and still, she spoke it all the same, if only to draw a response from Catra, a reaction; _something_. 

And that’s when something happened. So suddenly and so viciously, and with an almost whimpering snarl, Catra’s clawed fingers shot outwards. The sound alone surprised Lonnie even more than the sharp nails tearing through her skin. Catra bared pointed teeth, and they flashed as clearly as the threat of the tears at the corners of her two-colored eyes.

Adora called out, rushed over, and took Catra by the shoulders. Lonnie barely noticed when Catra pushed Adora away and bounded out of the room. All she could feel was the hurt in Catra’s voice, the desperate look in her eyes, and the pounding of her own tumultuous heartbeat.

* * *

“Does it hurt?”

Lonnie’s frown deepened. As she turned her head, the movement of it made the fresh, crimson-colored scratch marks trailing down the side of her jaw prickle in pain.

“It’s _fine_ , Adora.”

“No, it’s not,” Adora countered as she made her way into the barracks towards Lonnie’s bunk. “I’m sorry. I know she didn’t mean it. It’s just-”

“Just Catra being Catra, right?” Lonnie’s words escaped her with a frustrated sigh. “Really, it’s fine.”

 _Because if it’s Catra, it_ has _to be fine. And if it’s not, Adora will keep pushing until it is._

“Well, she has certainly been Catra, today,” Adora gave a lackluster reply as she sat down heavily on her own bottom bunk, across from Lonnie, obscuring the childhood stick-figure drawings of Catra and Adora from years ago that had been carved into the bed’s frame. 

Lonnie raised her eyes to meet Adora’s, and they widened fractionally to see Adora failing to hold back a wince against her own set of fresh, bright red scratches, right beside her nose and angling downwards. Adora’s eyes weren’t harsh and hard against the pain of it, like Lonnie’s were. Adora’s eyes held worry, and confusion, and the sight of that made Lonnie’s chest tighten as she sucked in a sharp breath. 

“She got you too?”

“It’s my own fault.”

Lonnie stared at her.

“Did they give you a med kit?” Adora broke the silence with a change of subject.

Lonnie shot her a sarcastic expression _._ “Fresh out. They said scars will be likely. That’ll be _something,_ for both of us.”

And as Lonnie thought harder, she realized that it would be… _something_ , for her and Adora to have matching battle scars; a similarity, bleeding through amidst the weighted opacity of their many differences. Or maybe, Lonnie thought, maybe they weren’t so very different after all.

“I’ll get us some med kits from Shadow Weaver. I know she has some.” Adora pushed herself up to stand, and her eyes hardened as an objective formed and took hold of her thoughts. Lonnie was keenly aware of Adora’s inability to stand still, and even with all that charisma, all those charming smiles and encouraging words, Adora had never been very good at just… talking.

“You don’t have to keep doing this, y’know.” Lonnie’s murmured voice traveled through the air, pulling at Adora’s attention.

“Doing what?”

Lonnie smiled horribly then, against the pulsing, painful wounds at her jaw, and against Adora’s own wide-eyed, dumb-founded look of surprise.

“Making things better.”

Adora’s brows knitted together, but a smile began to form, and Lonnie knew without needing to hear what came next that Adora was going to take the high ground. Because when had she not?

“You’re my friend, Lonnie. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make it right.” Adora flashed another one of her winning grins; her perfectly white teeth bared. Her eyebrows raised fractionally. A victorious glint appearing within her stunning, pale-blue eyes. 

Lonnie swallowed thickly and looked away. Well, at least there wouldn’t be scars. That was something, right?

“I’m not gonna stop you,” Lonnie muttered as heat crept onto her cheeks and burned there in tandem and yet separate from those fresh, unhealed wounds. 

And there, after Adora left her alone in the barracks, laying atop the sheets of her bunk, she couldn’t decide what hurt the most. Catra’s claws, or the hurt she'd had in her eyes, or Adora’s blind selflessness.

Or maybe it was just that she hated caring so much at all.

* * *

“This is stupid. I’m not doing it.”

Catra dropped her mop, and it clattered to the floor of the dimly-lit and practically named Fright Zone Commissary #2. The sound of the wood hitting the ground echoed as Catra turned sharply and strode toward the door, one clawed hand resting on her hip. 

“Don’t even think about leaving.” Lonnie’s voice carried powerfully through the expansive, empty room.

Catra’s fluffy tail swished from side to side playfully, but when she spoke, her voice was like daggers.

“Oh yeah? Are you gonna try and _stop_ me?”

Lonnie dropped her own mop into the bucket with a splash and moved towards the opposite wall where Catra stood waiting.

“You’re hopeless if you think that’ll work on me,” Lonnie rumbled. Catra turned her head, lips parting to show a few sharp, gleaming canines. 

“I don’t know, _Lonnie_ ,” Catra’s lips curved viciously around her name, and the sound of it, her name on Catra’s tongue, made Lonnie draw in a faltering breath. 

“Seems like it’s working pretty well to me,” Catra continued arrogantly as she tilted her head slightly back and to the side with a triumphant gleam shining in her narrowed eyes. Lonnie recognized that look, though Catra rarely used it with _her_.

“Well, I don’t see you trying to run, _Catra._ ” Lonnie’s voice grew thick and dark as Catra’s name spilled from her lips, and as she drew nearer she could see the muscles and tendons in Catra’s neck flexing against the movement of her throat as she swallowed, and in that moment Lonnie wanted nothing more than to feel those muscles beneath her fingers, or her lips, or her teeth.

How long had it been, since last time? And why were there _still_ last times? Why were they still doing this at all? Lonnie couldn’t pin down a reason. How had it even started? The first time, it was supposed to be the continuation of a fight. Alone, in an empty hangar, the fist fight had turned into a brawl, and then the brawl turned into... something else entirely. One thing led to another and after that they had made a habit of it. A bad habit that neither of the two of them could shake off; a bad habit that felt really, _really_ good.

Catra took a playfully quick half-step back, just faster than Lonnie could step forward; angling herself just out of range and laughing lightly all the while. Lonnie smirked as she pressed forward. Catra fell back to match her stride, and the sound of Lonnie’s boots and Catra’s nails scuffing against the concrete became a rhythmic, echoing dance.

Until Catra backed up into a wall, and the sounds of both pairs of footsteps stopped.

“Well?” Catra breathed as she raised one capricious eyebrow and licked her lips. One pointed tooth appeared as she smiled. 

_“Really?”_ Lonnie asked simply as she approached, until her face was only meters from Catra’s own, and, being the same height, she looked easily into Catra’s varicolored eyes. “You want it _here?_ ” 

“It’s as good as anywhere else, isn’t it?” Catra countered breathily, and the sound of her voice, so casually apathetic and yet somehow so desperately charged with need, sent Lonnie over an edge. She pressed forward, pinning Catra’s wiry frame to the wall with her own strong hips. Her hands rose, and she pressed her fingers against Catra’s lean shoulders.

Catra snarled, eyes narrowing with desire as she pushed her hips against her, and her hands lifted to wrap around Lonnie’s sturdy torso, parting her lips deliciously as her fingers traced the muscles beneath Lonnie’s shirt.

Lonnie narrowed her hazel eyes even as she felt a cocky grin pulling itself across her face. Catra peered back at her through lidded eyes glowing bright citrine and vivid sapphire. 

Lonnie knew better than anyone how hard Catra could fall for an idiotic grin. 

And she knew _why_.

Lonnie’s rough hands traveled across Catra’s collarbone, and downwards, and she almost laughed with a giddy victory when her fingers caught against a hardened nipple beneath Catra’s jumpsuit and, grasping there, tore a broken moan from Catra’s lips.

Catra pulled her hands down to Lonnie’s steady hips, and Lonnie shuddered as her claws poked into the fabric of her fatigues, prickling the skin beneath. Lonnie flexed her butt and thighs, and found enough purchase to grind herself up against Catra, powering her into the wall with all that strength she knew Catra loved to feel, pressed hard against her. And for a few minutes, there was only the sound of hurried breaths and ruffling fabric in that lonely, empty hall.

Catra’s eyes fluttered closed just before Lonnie leaned forward to press their lips together. Catra pulled her closer, moaning raggedly into the kiss as she returned Lonnie’s attentions even more aggressively, nicking Lonnie’s lips with her pointed teeth.

This time, Catra was the first to give in. She grabbed at Lonnie’s wrist and pulled her hand over her taut abs, and further down, until Lonnie’s hand rested at the warmth between Catra’s legs. 

They had perfected the art of getting off with most of their clothes on. And the more they did this, the more they continued to beat their fastest times. Every guttural, breathy growl and shuddering moan another tally on their leader board. 

But for a moment, as Catra’s body tightened and tensed beneath Lonnie’s clever, powerful hand and a sudden, explosive cry tore itself from her parted lips, Lonnie forgot she was keeping score. She forgot to think it was a game at all. All that mattered, in that briefest of moments, was the way Catra trembled beneath her. And just before she came, Catra’s tail wrapped hastily around Lonnie’s forearm, squeezing there tightly, and the feeling of that sent sparks of pleasure into Lonnie’s core.

Lonnie leaned forward, breathing heavily. Catra pressed herself against the wall, shuddering as she struggled to keep herself upright with her own two feet. 

“Need me to finish you off again?” Catra purred, her breathy voice narrowing to a finely gloating and destructive point.

Lonnie didn’t respond. Instead, she held Catra against the wall with one hand while her other shot down into the waistband of her own fatigues. She gritted her teeth against a groan as soon as her own fingers found all the places she needed them, not at all surprised at how close she already was.

Catra’s ears perked up in response to Lonnie’s moan. A smirk spread across her lips, and she narrowed her eyes as she watched an intense concentration pull itself across Lonnie’s features.

Lonnie gasped as a clawed hand ran delicately up her side, trailing sharp points up through the fabric of her form-fitting shirt. She could feel Catra’s eyes upon her, and despite being entirely clothed she felt dangerously naked, unprotected, _exposed_.

“T-that’s good,” Lonnie whispered, trying to regain control, dark eyes narrowing as Catra’s claws found her shoulder blades and she dragged them upwards with _just_ enough pressure. “Mmh, _Catra_.”

“What’re you waiting for?” Catra’s voice rose like smoke, sly and seductive and teasingly cruel. “I know it doesn’t take you _this_ long.”

“Shut up,” Lonnie growled, cheeks igniting as she moved her hand faster, _harder_. Catra’s tormenting lilt wasn’t helping her to keep her cool.

“Aw, but making you mad gets me off,” Catra teased as she took Lonnie’s free hand within her own and pulled it down from her bare shoulder to her chest, she closed Lonnie’s fingers around her breast, tight enough to pull at the fabric of her jumpsuit. Then, Catra leaned forward, moaning hotly into Lonnie’s ear.

That’s when Lonnie lost it. And she lost it hard. She slammed her eyes shut and crushed Catra against the wall as she fell forward, and as she came, she could hear Catra’s breathy, satisfied laughter hot against her ear.

“Well,” Catra remarked idly when Lonnie pushed herself away from the wall to pull her fatigues up on her hips and button them closed. “That was way better than mopping the floor.”

“Uh, what? We _still_ have to mop the floor,” Lonnie grunted, still breathing heavily as she wiped her hand on the back of her pants.

“Do we, though?” Catra asked with mock innocence, tilting her head so that her long, ruffled hair fell around the side of her face. She was sweating, and her chest was heaving. Lonnie couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of satisfaction, seeing her like that. It was something that was entirely and undeniably _hers._

“You wanna _leave?_ ” Lonnie scoffed. “Go ahead.” 

That’s how this usually ended, after all. One of them would retreat, and the other would be left alone, waiting long enough to make their own exit without looking suspicious to anyone who happened to be on patrol.

Catra’s smirk deepened, and she turned to go.

“But if you shirk your responsibilities, I’ll tell Adora, and then she’ll have to tell the Force Captains, or Shadow Weaver,” Lonnie said with a simple, yet powerful defiance. “And you _know_ how bad Adora is at deciding how to handle stuff like _that_.”

Catra halted, nearly falling back against the wall, recoiling as if Lonnie had struck her.

“Are you serious right now?” Catra stared at her as her shock hardened into a cool glare. She was trembling, and at first Lonnie thought it was from physical exhaustion, but as Catra stared back at her, she wasn’t entirely sure. “We just…”

Lonnie raised her brows, and let her head tilt to the side so that her thick, dark locks fell to one side of her muscular shoulders. “We just _what?_ ”

And she meant it. What had they done? What was any of this? And what did it really mean, to either of them?

But Catra didn’t take the bait. She growled, and pushed herself off the wall with one foot as she turned towards the door. 

“I’m not doing this.”

Lonnie watched her leave in silence. Her threat had been a lie, but she’d miscalculated. Next round, she’d be more careful. Because there would always be another round. And after all, the only thing she could be sure of was that what she had with Catra was nothing more than an incredibly intricate game. 

But in that moment, Lonnie couldn’t tell if she was winning, or losing.

* * *

“Catra.”

Lonnie opened her eyes in the darkness. The black void of the top bunk’s underside greeted her. She wondered what time it was.

“ _Catra_.”

Adora’s whisper wasn’t at all quiet. Lonnie vaguely wondered if Adora had a subtle bone in her body. 

“ _What_?”

Catra’s whispered hiss was more hushed, but being as close as she was in her own bunk, Lonnie could hear it all the same. Why hadn’t Lonnie forced someone to switch bunks with her yet?

“Can you come down?”

Silence.

“ _Please_?”

“Ugh. Fine.”

 _Ugh was right_ , Lonnie thought. Now she would be up for hours. Why hadn’t she learned to be less of a light sleeper, after all of her years in the Horde? As Catra nimbly hopped down from her bunk, Lonnie used the extra noise to pull the covers up to her neck.

“Okay. Here I am. Happy now?”

“Thanks.”

A pause.

“So,” Catra whispered, uncertainty dripping from her voice, “Why am I down here, this time?”

“I’m worried about tomorrow. I mean, I’ve gone through the drill like a hundred times. I’ve memorized the course. I know the counts. I’ve done like, a hundred push-ups, I-”

“Whoa. Stop. You need to _relax_.”

“Yeah,” Adora murmured softly. She paused. Lonnie held her breath in order to hear her. “That’s kinda why I wanted you to come down.”

Another silence. Lonnie could feel her heart starting to pump blood into her veins.

“Uh.” Catra seemed to be at a loss.

Another painfully long silence, for all three of them.

“Could you do that thing you used to do? The shoulder thing?” Adora breathed the words out quickly.

“God, Adora,” Catra said, and Lonnie picked up on the hint of a smile as the whispered words left Catra’s lips, “You’re such an idiot.”

There was the sound of fabric and ruffling sheets. The creaking of the bunk, as weight was shifted and settled. Lonnie imagined what they must look like, and swallowed hard. 

“Comfortable?”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“You?”

“Yeah.”

“So,” Catra whispered, “Uh, where do you want it?”

“N-near my neck, I guess?” 

Adora laughed nervously, but then she sucked in a harsh breath. 

“Too hard?” Catra whispered hastily, with a genuine concern that Lonnie barely recognized, being that it was so at odds with Catra's typical indifference.

“N-no, that’s good. Like, _really_ good.”

Lonnie closed her eyes. She wanted to scream at them. But part of her also _didn’t._ An internal struggle raged within, as one part of her wanted to continue listening in on... whatever _this_ was, while another part of her wanted to shut the whole thing out entirely.

Adora stifled a relieved sigh. Lonnie bit down hard on her bottom lip.

“You’re really tight here,” Catra whispered, gulping audibly. 

“Tell me about it,” Adora replied with a sigh. Then, she paused. “...Can I get you to do this more often?”

A silence.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to push you.”

“No, it’s fine. I know I haven’t come down from my bunk a lot lately.”

“I noticed,” Adora whispered, and then hastily added, “which is totally fine, by the way. I just didn’t know if I should ask why.”

Another silence. Longer this time. Lonnie released a silent, shuddering breath.

“I don’t know.”

It’s all Catra would say, and Adora didn’t press her. 

Eventually, the two of them fell asleep, and the only sound to keep Lonnie awake after that was the mingling of purrs and snores, and Adora’s occasional restless movement in the night.

* * *

Sparring had taken on an entirely new form of torture, lately.

Under the Force Captains’ watchful gaze, Lonnie strove to perform to her physical limits. She had always been good at direct combat; she was built for it. Agile, but with enough muscle to throw her weight where she needed it. Balanced. 

She was admittedly more evenly matched with Catra, and this time, as was usual, their trainers opted to match them together first. Lonnie chose a staff as her weapon, and Catra chose no weapon at all. The winner would face Adora, who watched their every bout with a keen interest. It made Lonnie’s heart race, every single time. And as she circled Catra and readied her staff, she could see Catra’s own anxious expression, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

Lonnie charged forward. Catra smirked, and stepped aside. They had known each other for too long, lived far too closely, and by now the element of surprise had been all but lost. As Lonnie fell forward she could feel Catra’s claws at her shoulder blades and trailing upwards, brutally mimicking the movement from their most recent hookup. Lonnie's mind reeled at the thought of Catra bringing that _here_. And suddenly, the memory of the look on Catra’s face right before she came lit up like a flashbang, clouding Lonnie’s mind with a blinding urgency.

“No blood, cadet. Keep it clean.” One of the Force Captains barked. Catra scowled and moved her claws away. Lonnie remembered where she was and spun around to swing her staff sidelong, but she didn’t put enough power into it. Catra caught the staff in her hand, made a tight fist, and pulled. Lonnie stumbled forward and fell to her hands and knees. The staff spiraled out of her hands, clattering and spinning across the dingy, hexagon-pattern floor. 

She was on the ground. She had lost. 

“Wow, _Lonnie_ ,” Catra’s vaunting voice was like a knife’s edge pressed against Lonnie’s pounding heart, “That was almost too easy. Have you gone _soft?”_

“Catra. Don’t push it,” another Force Captain commanded. Catra smiled to herself and crossed her bristly arms before her chest, one pointed tooth popped out from the side of her curved lips.

Lonnie pushed herself up and turned away, saying nothing. What _could_ she say that wouldn’t give them away? As she made her way back towards the sidelines, she realized that Adora was heading towards her. Adora was smiling too, albeit apologetically, and as they passed by each other she pressed a warm hand to Lonnie’s shoulder and squeezed there reassuringly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she said encouragingly, with an optimism that only Adora could marshal. “You’ll get her next time.”

Lonnie managed a quick nod, and continued to walk back to the observation line. She forced herself to turn towards them, and settled into a squat to watch.

Watching the two of them battle it out was… agonizing, in so many different ways. They moved like it was a dance. They moved like they knew each other’s strengths, and weaknesses. And they did. Lonnie knew them, too. Adora’s powerfully built, bulkier frame against Catra’s nimble, sprightly one. Adora, controlled and precise and on-point; a distinctive contrast to Catra’s messy, improvised recklessness.

Adora caught Catra mid-pounce and took her by the wrist. She spun her around effortlessly, facing her away as she pulled her arm up into the small of her back; a perfect hammerlock. Catra growled with frustration as Adora pulled up, locking Catra’s arm behind her, forcing Catra to arch her back. Lonnie bit down hard on her bottom lip when she saw Catra’s ass press against Adora’s muscular thighs.

“Cadet, do you yield?” The Force Captain’s accusatory tone seemed to energize Catra, and her eyes narrowed as she struggled against the hold.

“Do you yield?” Adora echoed breathily, and Lonnie watched as Adora’s cheeks burned red, and a vein in her neck pulsed hard and wild as her heart pounded in her chest.

“You wish,” Catra spat, squirming against Adora’s hold until finally, she found an out and slipped from Adora’s grasp. She grinned ferociously, baring her sharp teeth. Her expression sent a jolt of suffocating pleasure into the pit of Lonnie’s stomach.

Catra circled Adora slowly, extended claws at the ready. Adora tracked her, bending low as she raised her arms, and the muscles in her shoulders bunched up beneath her tight-fitting shirt. 

“C’mon Catra.” Adora smirked. “Let’s go.”

Catra’s clever eyes scanned her surroundings, and they lit up when she saw Lonnie’s staff laying a few feet away.

“Come and get me, then,” she taunted, and she knew as well as Lonnie did that Adora would fall for it. Adora bounded forward, smirk exploding to a grin as she barreled towards her. But Catra was faster, and with her tail she pulled the staff into play, right before Adora’s feet.

Lonnie winced as Adora slipped and fell back, hitting the floor with a hard and heavy thud, grunting as the wind was knocked out of her. Catra was on her before she had a chance to react, sitting on Adora’s hips, pressing her thighs down to pin her as she held fast at Adora’s wrists.

“ _Hey, Adora_ ,” Catra snarled sweetly, “Do _you_ yield?”

Adora grunted and tried to buck her hips to toss Catra off, the muscles in her hamstrings and thighs screaming, but Catra rode it out. Her heterochromatic eyes narrowed with a desperate sort of satisfaction as she held on.

“Disqualified.”

“Seriously?!” Catra roared.

Lonnie closed her eyes and she shook her head as her lips curved into a small smirk.

* * *

“I can’t believe I won that one,” Adora blurted out as soon as they entered the locker room. “That was intense.”

Catra nearly laughed as she pulled off her wrist guards and threw them unceremoniously into her locker with a crash. “You call that winning? They gave it to you because they like you more.”

Adora laughed good-naturedly. “C’mon, Catra. You’ve gotta know by now that you can’t use another combatant’s weapon in a spar.”

“That rule’s stupid,” Catra growled, “It would _never_ be like that, in the field. But it's not like I care, anyway.”

“Uh, it sounds like you _definitely_ care,” Adora pointed out, a smug grin appearing on her face as one eyebrow rose, teasingly. 

“I really _don’t_ ,” Catra countered angrily, but there was a blush on her cheeks, and Adora’s grin was widening.

“Hmm, okay.” Adora hummed. Catra rolled her eyes.

“Maybe don’t cheat next time,” Lonnie muttered, loud enough for the both of them to hear. She glanced sidelong at Catra, who had turned her head to glare at her. They both knew what she meant. The cheating Catra had done against Lonnie; the claws on her back, a pointed reminder of everything they had done, and continued to do, in their moments alone.

“Says the loser,” Catra shot back with a surprising amount of control in her voice.

“You lost too,” Lonnie countered with a quiet heat.

As they stared daggers at each other, Adora’s brows knitted together. She had never figured out how to deal with their animosity. 

“C’mon, you two. It was just a spar.”

Catra and Lonnie both pursed their lips at the same time.

“And besides, you both know I’m always gonna be on top.” Adora grinned stupidly.

“Wow,” Catra breathed as her cheeks colored pink. “You’re unbearable today.” There was a stutter to her voice, and Lonnie recognized it for what it was immediately.

Adora left them alone, but not before she invited and made sure they both agreed to meet her in the commissary. Word had it that grey ration bars were back. It had been months. She was excited.

Lonnie and Catra changed in silence. Lonnie’s mind wandered. Things had gotten so… weird, between them. It didn’t even feel good to fight anymore. Not really. How long could she keep going on like this?

Catra closed her locker gently. Lonnie turned her head to look at her. 

“You coming to the commissary?” Catra’s voice was quiet, and she looked straight ahead, seeming to take an incredible interest in her locker’s handle as she inspected it with a claw.

Lonnie stared at her. It might’ve been the first time Catra had ever said something that wasn’t vaguely combative. 

“Adora still doesn’t know about the contraband food, does she?” Lonnie wondered aloud, more to herself than anything, but Catra seemed to hear her.

“I think she blocked it out.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Lonnie offered, unable to stop herself from smiling.

It was strange for them to be talking like this. Stranger still, for them to be talking about _Adora_.

Silence draped itself around them. Lonnie watched Catra, and waited.

“I think we should both go,” Catra muttered, claws brushing up against the locker’s handle, “for Adora.”

Sometimes, when Catra looked at or thought about Adora, she’d get like this. Quiet. Introspective. _Beautiful_. Something opened up deep in the pit of Lonnie’s stomach, an emotion she couldn’t quite place. She strangled it back down.

Catra continued, but she wasn’t looking at Lonnie now. Not really. “She’s probably going through a lot, trying to secure Force Captain, training under Shadow Weaver.” Catra nearly spat the name. “I just don’t want her to think there’s something going on, between us.”

Lonnie froze.

“There _isn’t_ something going on, between us,” Lonnie asserted, voice hardening. _“Is there?”_

Catra made a half-turn, and her long, dark hair drifted behind her. 

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Catra said simply. Her hand left the locker, nails scratching against the metal for a brief moment before her hand dropped to her side. She turned to go.

“When are you going to tell her?”

Catra stopped. Her left ear twitched.

 _“What_ did you say?” 

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“You’re wrong.” Catra’s voice shook. She didn’t turn around. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Catra left. Lonnie didn’t stop her. She stood still for a moment, and in the next she sent a fist crashing into her locker and slammed her eyes shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Kk0EO4aDSYg2rAzY1cMpF?si=74hmKndMSOWlodgNdXl28A) for this fic now.  
> 

There was some time, after that difficult exchange with Catra in the locker room, where Lonnie had thought she’d won. Not against _Catra._ Not entirely, at least. It was the battle she waged on her own internal failings that seemed to be coming to an end. She had been able to get through spars, hologram simulations, and every other physically and mentally straining obligation that came with being a senior cadet without paying very much attention to anything, or _anyone,_ except herself and her own eager desire to improve and succeed.

Because Force Captain wasn’t _entirely_ impossible, right? There was always a chance, wasn’t there? 

And wasn’t that what she had wanted, and been looking forward to, for as long as she could remember? 

Wasn’t that what all of this was _for?_

The precarious, messy hookups with Catra had died out too; evaporating as quickly and easily as if they had never happened at all. It wasn’t really an explicitly conscious choice on Lonnie’s part. There had just never been a spare moment to plan for it, much less even really think about it, after that dispute in the locker room. Which made sense, since Catra had been avoiding her almost entirely. Lately, Lonnie barely saw her outside of lights-out, and even then Catra had a habit of just… not showing up.

This gradual turn in Catra’s behavior was not something lost on Adora, but she noticed and commemorated Catra’s absence in her own way.

Lonnie watched with a quiet frustration as Adora became more subdued and increasingly distant. Always with a slight, angling tilt of uncertainty to her dark eyebrows as she went through the motions of the day. 

There seemed, somehow, to just be _less_ of Adora than usual. And at the start, Lonnie tried to tell herself that it wasn’t _all_ bad. It made it easier for Lonnie to keep herself in check, at least. And if anything, in Catra’s absence, Adora seemed to have no choice but to notice Lonnie just a bit more than usual.

Lonnie hated knowing _why_ , but at the end of the day how could she stop herself from enjoying and holding on to that extra recognition? She had her own feelings under her thumb; she was in control. Why _shouldn’t_ she allow herself to bask in Adora’s misplaced attention?

It had been a very satisfying period of time. Lonnie felt like she had finally gotten over the hump of her own feelings, scaling those jagged peaks as easily and assuredly as Rock Wall #4. Now _she_ was the one on top, looking down at where she’d come; looking down at all those small, pitiful thoughts that had been controlling and consuming her senses for far too long.

She was past it. It was all behind her. All she needed to do now was keep pressing forward.

But when had things ever been so easy?

* * *

The sound of a solid fist hitting worn leather echoed against the walls of Training Room #27. The moons hung low on the horizon, and the small room was dimly lit, with only one slice of moonlight shining in from a single barred window set high into the wall. 

Lonnie threw her weight into every strike, and every time her fist hit the bag a cloud of dust whirled up and was made visible within that single shard of moonlight. The light caught her eyes, and made the sweat running down her temples and neck glisten in the near-darkness.

This was one of Lonnie’s more frequent haunts, and she always came alone. One of the few locations in the Fright Zone that she could call her own, so long as she stole away during lights-out, when everyone else was supposed to be sleeping. 

If Catra could do it, why shouldn’t she?

She finished her combination with a swift, hard kick to the bag’s middle. The sound of the impact of her shin hitting warm leather felt incredibly good. She stood there for a moment, breathing deeply as the bag’s side-to-side swinging began to slow. Her thoughts wandered, now that she no longer took any action to keep them at bay.

It had been a particularly emotional morning training. The Final Assessment, those rigorous tests that would apprise the Force Captains of every senior cadet’s readiness for active duty or promotion, was right around the corner. All of their trainings lately had been to prepare for that single day; a scant, frantic few hours that would decide the trajectory of the rest of their lives. 

It was nerve-wracking, and the entire squad was feeling the pressure in each a different way. Kyle and Rogelio closed in on themselves. Kyle talked less. Rogelio grunted more. Adora was a perfect example of an Adora on the edge, focused to a fault; using brash overconfidence as a shield against her own spiraling anxiety. And Catra, well, she hadn’t shown up much at all.

Lonnie replayed the test course they had gone through that morning in her mind, and watched as Rogelio doubled back to help Kyle out of a pit. She had turned just in time to see both of them falling. Then, it was just her and Adora. There had been three bots. Adora took two. Lonnie took the third. She thought they might win. What they hadn’t noticed at the time, was a fourth bot hiding behind cover. Adora heard the tell-tale sound of a laser warming up it’s beam and yelled for Lonnie to dodge, but neither of them were fast enough. The impact of the laser’s charge slamming into Lonnie’s chestguard sent her hard to the ground.

Afterwards, there had been only silence, as they undressed in the locker room. After Lonnie had finished changing, she turned to see Adora leaning her forehead against her locker. When she heard Lonnie’s movement behind her she straightened up and turned. Lonnie bit at the inside of her lip as Adora forced a smile.

“I’ll do better next time.” 

Adora said those words like she had said them hundreds of times before. She said them like she had rehearsed them, or been forced to repeat them, over and over and over again. And Lonnie wondered then, with an ache in her heart, if any of that were true.

“We’re only going to get so far without—“ Lonnie paused awkwardly, “when we’re down a man.”

Adora stood stock-still as her eyebrows drew together. 

“I’m sorry, I think—“

“Why are _you_ sorry?” Lonnie’s voice rose uncontrollably, and Adora’s eyes widened in response. 

Lonnie couldn’t seem to find it in herself to care about her own uncontrolled outburst, but another part of her was screaming to reign it in, let it go, and just walk away. She was entering dangerous territory again. She was taking great, quick strides into that minefield of caring. But when Adora looked at her like that… how could she _not?_

“Catra’s my responsibility. Her not being here? That’s on me.”

“It doesn’t... work like that.” Lonnie’s lowered voice shook as she said each word with a powerful intensity.

Adora’s smile returned. An almost pityingly soft and kind smile that made Lonnie’s blood burn to boiling. 

“Listen, Lonnie. I know how much active duty means to you. I promise that I’ll—“

“That’s not what this is about!” Lonnie roared. She could see herself in her mind, slipping down the rocky ledge of that metaphorical cliff; blood seeping beneath her nails as she struggled to crawl upward, scrambling for purchase as gravity took her down, and down, and down.

“This isn’t about _me_.” Lonnie’s voice grew in strength; in urgency.

 _Because when had it_ ever _been?_

“What about you, Adora? When is it going to be about _you?_ ” Lonnie’s voice broke, shattering like a mirror’s fragile glass, the sharp, broken pieces of her words reflecting the desperation in her voice, in her glistening hazel eyes, and her own trembling, tightly balled fists.

Adora stared at her.

Lonnie wanted to grab hold of her. Shake her shoulders. Scream at her. Slam her against the locker. She would have done anything, in that moment, to pry a response from Adora’s trembling lips. An acknowledgement. A confession. _Something._

“You can’t keep going on like this—” Lonnie continued, but then she stopped. What had she wanted to say?

Lonnie noticed Adora’s breathing, the shallow rise and fall of her chest, the way her parted lips opened as her pure, pale-blue eyes widened fractionally. 

“Lonnie, I—“ 

It was Adora’s voice, the tone of it, that made Lonnie realize that this was the _real_ Adora; a version of her that she very rarely showed, to _anyone._ And now, with that look on her face, and the small, reflective tone of voice, Lonnie knew her well enough to know that Adora was processing some sort of complex emotion.

And seeing that made something like fear erupt deep within Lonnie’s heart, and it was so sudden and so _real_ that she pulled away from it immediately.

“But you’re going to, aren’t you? That’s just what you _do_ , isn’t it?” Lonnie spat, folding her thick, muscular arms into her chest as she pivoted away. Adora looked away too, tearing her gaze from Lonnie with an uncharacteristic harshness as her eyes sunk sorely to the floor.

After that, well, Lonnie couldn’t get out of the locker room fast enough. Anything to avoid one more minute of seeing Adora looking like that. Anything to block out the crestfallen look on her face; the hard self-loathing etched into her downcast eyes.

Lonnie had meant to win, but not like _that_.

Never like that.

After the punching bag came to rest, and the pendulum-like sound of it swinging on the wire faded to nothing, and her breathing had calmed down, and her mind stopped blanking, Lonnie opened her eyes.

Never before had she so appreciated the absence of mirrors in a Fright Zone training room. 

* * *

It was deep into the dead hours of the night when Lonnie slipped out of Training Room #27 and into the shadows of the deserted Fright Zone corridors on her way back to the barracks. 

She had always found the long walk back peaceful, almost meditative. There were moments, as she turned dark corners, where it felt like she was finally the person she saw in her daydreams about the future. Confident, collected, in charge. Walking through the halls with purpose. _Determination._ And for a moment, she thought what the Force Captain’s badge might look like, gleaming at her breast.

But then the _other_ thoughts came, and her dreams vanished like cold mist beneath a moonrise.

_When is it going to be about you?_

_When are you going to tell her?_

The memory of the words, _her words,_ crashed into her quiet mind with the force of a lunar tide. 

Those questions. The ones she felt so passionately about. The ones she had forced out and away. Hadn’t she always meant to direct them inward? Weren’t they, and hadn’t they always been, meant for _her_ to answer? 

Lonnie stopped. She was close to the wall, and she raised an arm, pressing her fingers hard into the cold, smooth concrete, holding herself upright against it.

In her stillness, and in the silence, there was the sound of a mechanical door sliding open around the corridor’s corner. Lonnie froze and pressed herself against the wall, but no one came.

Then, she heard voices.

“Now then, what have we learned?” 

Lonnie swallowed hard at the sound of Shadow Weaver’s voice, velvet dipped in venom, and so _very_ condescending. Lonnie couldn’t recall Shadow Weaver ever using such a tone. It was so different from how she spoke to Adora.

_“Catra."_

Lonnie’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, so you don’t want me _distracting_ her, but you _also_ want me to go to training… where Adora is. Makes perfect sense.”

Catra’s own tone of voice, now _that_ was something Lonnie could recognize. That emblematic defiance rolled into scathing sarcasm had always been Catra, for as long as Lonnie could remember. But for her to talk to Hordak’s second-in-command like _that_.

“ _You_ won't be playing games with me.”

There was a tension in the air. Lonnie could almost feel it. A dark, electric hum crackled beyond the corridor. Blisteringly bright magenta-hued light arced off along the wall. Lonnie pressed herself against the wall, and considered running in the opposite direction.

“Your delinquency isn’t helping anyone. It’s doing real damage. To _Adora_ most of all.”

Shadow Weaver’s voice curved around Adora’s name like a serpent, and suddenly, Lonnie realized that it wasn’t just her _words_ that felt like that. There were actual shadows, crawling all along the wall around the corner. Great, thick tendrils of darkness, swirling slowly as they reached beyond the part of the wall that Lonnie could see.

“I know what you mean,” Catra responded, but her voice sounded strained and uncharacteristically forced. “Obviously.”

“Good.”

The shadows and the sparks dropped away, fading to nothing. Lonnie realized she had been holding her breath.

“You would do well to obey me in this, Catra. I’m _only_ trying to help.”

A pause.

“I won’t miss another training.” Catra’s voice was resolute, but it carried a hollow stiffness, as if she were talking against an acrid bitterness lodged deep within her throat.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. Now, run along. You’ve got an early morning, haven’t you?”

“Do I…” Catra hesitated. “Do you still need me to come back here tomorrow night?”

“If it’s for _Adora_ , I know that you will.”

Lonnie heard the metal doors slide closed. Her heart was slamming against her chest, loud enough that she was sure the pounding of it would be what gave away her position.

Except that it didn’t. She heard Catra’s footsteps taking her in the opposite direction. 

Lonnie released a shaking breath as she tried to piece together her fractured thoughts.

* * *

When Lonnie returned to the barracks, she wasn’t _entirely_ surprised to see that Catra’s bunk was still empty, as was the spot at the end of Adora’s bed, even though Adora had left space for her. Seeing Adora curled up beneath her blanket, struggling within a fitful night’s sleep, brows knitted together against what Lonnie could only assume was a nightmare... it was too much.

And when sleep finally came for her, she had nightmares too. The corridors of the Fright Zone were an endless maze she travelled, and sometimes, around the corner, she could see shadows, or hear voices whispering. It felt in her heart that she ought to be running from something; a presence that she could feel, following just behind her. Except the further she went, the closer she felt to it, until she stopped and realized that whatever she had thought had been hunting her was deep, deep within.

She woke up late, and it felt like she hadn’t slept at all.

She dressed, and made her way to Commissary #2, entering through the wide main entrance and towards her usual table, where Kyle and Rogelio were already halfway finished eating.

“Whoa,” Kyle exclaimed between mouthfuls. “Did you have a rough night?”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Lonnie asked, her voice spiked with coarse tenacity. She hated when she wore her emotions on her sleeve. But had she? Maybe it was just that Kyle and Rogelio knew her too well. Either way, it was far too early for this

Rogelio gave Kyle a _look_ and Kyle dropped his ration bar onto his tray, hastily raising his hands in surrender.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way! It’s just that you look exhausted!”

“Thanks for noticing,” Lonnie growled as she sat down across from the both of them. She grabbed a ration bar and bit into it, chewing mechanically as she lost herself within her own thoughts. 

She hated it here, in Commissary #2, and she hated knowing _why_. Her eyes wandered to the wall. She tore them away viciously.

Rogelio grunted and elbowed Kyle in the ribs.

“Ow!” Kyle hissed as he frowned up at Rogelio, but after noticing his expression he seemed to take the hint and looked down at his tray. His ration bar had fallen into a puddle of spilled water, and he made a face as he picked the soggy thing back up with his thumb and forefinger.

Lonnie didn’t have time to notice Kyle’s comedic expression, however, for in that moment Catra, with Adora close behind, both strode into the commissary. Since Catra was leading, Lonnie knew they wouldn’t be coming to the squad’s table. Catra hated when Adora made her sit with them. Always had.

She watched as Catra walked to the other end of the cafeteria and sat at an empty table. Adora had been talking to her, but when Catra sat down Adora looked up with a confused eyebrow raise, and glanced around. 

They were too far away for Lonnie to hear them, but she could see Adora’s questioning expression as she put her palms down on the table across from where Catra sat, chewing quietly at the edge of a ration bar.

Adora was still talking, but when she stopped, Catra didn’t pick up the conversation. This, as Lonnie knew all too well, would begin to set Adora on edge.

“—really need you, for the Final Assessment, y’know?”

Kyle’s voice broke Lonnie’s concentration. She pulled her gaze away. He was looking at her, from across the table. His soggy ration bar lay on the tray, untouched. 

“What?” Lonnie asked distractedly.

Rogelio grunted. Kyle frowned.

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay?” Kyle asked, sounding worried. “Rogelio’s worried about you. I am, too.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Lonnie murmured as her eyes wandered back across the hall. Adora had risen to her full height and was staring down her nose at Catra, her chin tilted up, her hands clutched into tightened fists at her sides. Catra wasn’t looking at her, but she _was_ smiling now. Smiling to herself. Catra had said something. Something she couldn’t take back. Something Adora couldn’t get past. 

Adora flinched, and seemed torn between reaching out and pulling back, but it was Catra who stood and stormed off first. Catra was always the first to leave, when they fought like this. And Adora would always watch, one hand pulled up to her chest, fingers curved into an empty fist pressed up against her heart.

Lonnie stood so suddenly that the movement of it surprised Kyle to the point of nearly falling over. Rogelio caught him by his shirt collar and set him back firmly into his seat.

“Really. I’m fine,” Lonnie echoed. Rogelio and Kyle looked up at her. Kyle nodded slowly and seemed to accept her words at face value, seeing how trusting he was in her words seemed to hurt more than if he had outright doubted her. 

But how could she let Kyle and Rogelio in on… whatever _this_ was? These two, who she had grown up with, and spent so much time with; who saw her as an _equal_. These _friends_ of hers. 

Why couldn’t she open up to them? And why didn’t she _want_ to? 

* * *

After lunch, Lonnie stopped by the barracks.

She didn’t expect to find Catra there, curled up at the foot of Adora’s otherwise empty bed. Her boots slid on the concrete floor as she came to a halt before their bunks, and the sound made one of Catra’s ears twitch. That, combined with the sudden flick of her tail, was enough for Lonnie to realize that she was only pretending at sleep.

Lonnie stepped forward, and as she reached her bunk she bent down to grab the wrist wraps she had forgotten. She stuffed them into her pockets and turned. Catra was still lying there, faced away from her.

Lonnie paused, and the memory of Catra and Shadow Weaver back in the hallway slid in like a knife.

“It doesn’t matter how long you stand there,” Catra started up, brandishing her voice like it was a weapon, “I’m done talking.”

Lonnie frowned against the reproach.

“It’s me, idiot.”

Catra’s left ear twitched, and she hastily pulled Adora’s worn blue blanket around herself, curling into a tighter ball than before.

“Of course it is,” she muttered. “Well _you_ can leave, too. I’m trying to get some sleep.”

“It’s the middle of the day,” Lonnie started, but honestly, taking a nap to catch up on lost sleep seemed like a solid plan, not that she’d admit it.

“And?” Catra returned. “There’s no rule that says I can’t sleep during free time.”

Lonnie watched her. 

“Are you going to come to training?” Lonnie asked simply, before she had time to rethink her actions and just walk away.

Catra’s tail stilled.

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.” 

Lonnie knew if she mentioned Adora _now_ it would end the conversation. So she didn’t.

“Doubt it.” Catra muttered, sounding as tired and angry as Lonnie had ever heard her.

Again, a part of Lonnie rose up, and before she could stop herself she fell back into that old, comfortable way of speaking, with real emotion camouflaged behind every hotblooded, antagonistic taunt.

“Don’t be stupid. Do you really think I want _you_ to be the reason the squad fails? I’ve worked too hard for this. I won’t let you ruin it.”

This tone seemed to move Catra in a way that their previous exchanges hadn’t. She pushed herself up to sitting, with her legs pulled beneath her, and finally, she looked back at Lonnie. She looked as exhausted as Lonnie felt.

Then, Catra smiled. A vicious, aggressive smile that Lonnie hadn’t seen in weeks. It sent a familiar spark into the pit of Lonnie’s stomach, where a slow and subtle ember still quietly burned.

“If you fail it’ll be your own fault, _Lonnie_. That’s what you’re afraid of. It’s so easy to see. And kind of sad, really.”

 _That_ was more like it. Catra’s old self. Every lilting word wrapped in thorns. This was something familiar; this was something Lonnie could work with.

“What’s _sad_ is that you’re running away from your problems. Like a coward,” Lonnie returned pointedly. 

“What did you call me?” Catra rose slowly, and her muscles tensed as she narrowed her eyes.

“You heard me.”

“A coward couldn’t do the things I’ve done.”

“Oh yeah? All I’ve seen you do lately is disappear. What’s so brave about that?”

Catra grit her teeth, but she broke first. 

“I’m not doing this. Especially not with _you._ ”

And for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end, but Lonnie suddenly, desperately didn’t want it to, so she pushed.

“I know where you’re going. At night.”

Catra froze.

“You’d better stop talking. Now.”

“Does Adora know?” Lonnie asked, even though she already knew the answer; even though she knew the asking of it would cut.

That’s when Catra lunged. Lonnie half expected it, and she had her weight balanced so that when Catra pounced she wasn’t knocked down. She grabbed hold of one of Catra’s wrists, but she missed the other, and she released a pained grunt through her teeth as Catra’s claws dug into her muscled shoulder, piercing fabric and flesh alike.

Lonnie pressed beyond the pain and attempted to push Catra against the wall, but Catra expertly countered with footwork of her own, spinning the two of them around so that it was Lonnie who exhaled sharply as her back hit the smooth concrete.

She powered her arm upwards and put her forearm against Catra’s neck, pressing hard to keep her at bay while holding her one wrist in a vice-like grip; hard enough to bruise. Catra swallowed thickly against the choking pressure at her neck and dug the nails of her free hand more deeply into Lonnie’s shoulder.

“Don’t you _dare_ tell her,” Catra snarled. 

Lonnie gasped, and then she _grinned_. There was something nostalgic about the boiling hatred she felt; the physicality of this painful, monstrous bond they shared. She realized with a deep pang of self-loathing that she missed this feeling. She missed everything about her. 

“I’m serious.” Catra’s voice shook uncontrollably, and there, with the threat of tears glistening at the corners of her eyes, Lonnie saw that look again. That trapped, desperate expression. The one she had seen so few and far between. The _real_ Catra.

“Why would I tell her? What do I have to gain from _that?”_ Lonnie forced out the words she knew Catra needed to hear, because it was suddenly too much. She didn’t want to keep going. She didn’t want to be here at all. Her tone seemed to calm Catra. Her claws retracted fractionally as her breathing slowed. It hurt like hell as they pulled out of Lonnie’s broken skin.

“Do you think she’d believe me, anyway? She only listens to you.”

Those final words hurt to say, being so painfully true. But they had the effect Lonnie had wanted, and they seemed to distract Catra enough for her to pull away. Lonnie rested against the wall, breathing heavily. Catra brought a hand up to clutch at her elbow.

“Hardly,” Catra countered, but in a resigned sort of way as her eyes wandered.

Lonnie didn’t expect an apology. She didn’t think she deserved one. She pushed herself off the wall. 

“What’s Shadow Weaver up to, anyway?” Lonnie asked, feeling suddenly very small and unimportant in the middle of everything but not really _part of it_ in any meaningful way, after all.

“Nothing she hasn’t been doing for years,” Catra responded flatly.

Lonnie paused, navigating her feelings as she looked into Catra’s eyes searchingly. 

“It’s just Shadow Weaver’s top-notch _training_ ,” Catra added, with a tone of sarcastic surrender.

Lonnie couldn’t help but remember that night in the hallway, and the feeling of seeing it fill with all those shadows and sparks. The crushing pressure and tension of it, even from afar, had been nearly overwhelming. She couldn’t imagine taking that on, night after night. It didn’t feel right, somehow, to just… let it happen.

“Are you _really_ okay with this?” Lonnie asked, almost pleadingly as she took a step forward towards her.

Catra laughed bitterly and took a step back.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Catra commanded in finality as she turned away to slink towards the door. 

“We’ll be calling the shots eventually anyway, so who cares?”

Lonnie swallowed the words, but they tore into her heart, lodging in like caltrops, and each wild pulsing beat sent the jagged spines digging deeper, until the words became a part of her and she heard them on an echoing repeat.

_I care._

_Adora does, too._

_Why can’t you see that?_

* * *

Their squad’s Final Assessment surpassed all expectations. Kyle and Rogelio were focused. Catra showed up, albeit somewhat late. Adora was in her element. 

Lonnie was, too. 

With this much riding on her performance, she had no trouble snapping her focus into place, so that the need to succeed surpassed all else. Everything that had been bubbling over in her mind faded away to white static, and there was only her, the squad, and their objective. 

Afterwards, they celebrated. It was supposed to be fun, but there was still an awkwardness between Catra and Adora that Lonnie picked up on immediately, despite their earnest efforts to act like nothing was wrong. And of course, between Catra and _herself_ , tension always seemed to run high. Lonnie tried her best to ignore it and spent most of her time talking with Kyle and Rogelio, until it was time for lights out, and all her problems came crashing back down.

She walked to the barracks alone. As she was about to enter the threshold of the doorway, she heard Adora’s raised voice. She stopped to listen.

“I just don’t understand why you have to keep leaving!” Adora’s strained voice carried out to the hallway.

“I told you not to worry about it,” Catra lashed back. _“Okay?”_ Catra’s voice carried with it that forced anger Lonnie knew so well. The anger of a lie.

“None of this is okay!” Adora’s voice was less suffused with anger as it was eroding with panic. Confusion. Fear.

“Well, you’re just going to have to _deal_ with it.”

“Catra, please!” She heard a sound of fabric and boots on concrete. 

“You think grabbing my wrist is going to keep me here?” Catra’s voice trembled.

“What else am I supposed to do?” Adora countered with a defeated exasperation.

“I don’t need you to _do_ anything, except let me _go_.” 

There was a momentary silence. And then, the sound of Catra’s clawed feet scratching against the floor. Before she drew too close, Lonnie stepped quickly into the doorway.

Both of them looked up at her. Adora’s eyes widened; Catra’s eyes narrowed.

“Am I interrupting something?” Lonnie drawled with mock innocence, tilting her head slightly to one side.

Catra walked up to her. Lonnie stood still.

“Move.” Catra spat the command. Lonnie grit her teeth, but moved aside after a moment, and as Catra passed her she saw the look in her eyes. The warning. The _threat_. 

_Don’t you dare tell her._

That’s what Catra’s eyes said, as she slid past Lonnie’s muscular frame and slipped away, down the hall.

Lonnie frowned and stepped into the barracks. Adora had already pulled away and drawn into herself as she sat down on her bunk. There was an awkward silence that stretched between them as Lonnie got ready for lights out.

Then, she heard the sound of a metallic clasp. A small box opening, and then closing. Lonnie continued to prepare for lights out, but her ears perked up when she heard the sound again. The creaking click of a rusty hinge. And then, the wooden sound of a small lid closing.

“What’s that sound?” Lonnie had to ask.

Adora seemed almost to jump at her voice. Had she forgotten Lonnie was there? Lonnie frowned slightly and stared at her.

“Oh, uh,” Adora paused and her eyes rose upwards as her mind worked for an answer. “Nothing?”

Lonnie’s frown deepened. 

“I mean, I’m not going to pry, but I know it’s not nothing,” Lonnie replied, maybe just a bit more harshly than she should have, because her accusation of Adora’s misleading statement seemed to make Adora recoil.

“Well,” Adora started, and then her eyebrows drew together. “Here.”

She held out the box and clicked it open. Lonnie took a few steps towards Adora’s bunk and peered down into it.

Nestled within the dark, plush fabric of the box, was—

“A Force Captain’s badge.” Lonnie uttered.

Lonnie’s eyes rose from the badge and she met Adora’s gaze. Adora had been watching her, and she wasn’t looking away.

“Shadow Weaver gave it to me.” Adora paused. “Yesterday.”

Lonnie’s eyes widened imperceptibly. If it happened yesterday, then it was _before_ the Final Assessment, and that meant…

“It’s weird, right?” Adora blurted out nervously. Her cheeks were tinged red. “The Final Assessment was supposed to be a deciding factor. I don’t know why I got mine early.”

Adora’s voice trailed off.

“I think we all knew deep down that it was always going to be you,” Lonnie responded quietly.

Adora looked up at her.

“That’s not to say you don’t deserve it.” Lonnie continued, and then she shrugged halfheartedly. “I guess it just would’ve been nice to _think_ it was a fair draw.”

Adora’s lips trembled. Lonnie frowned slightly.

“Don’t worry about it, Adora.” Lonnie said then. “It’s not your fault.”

Adora let out a shaking sigh and tried to nod her head.

“I guess you’re right. It’s just,” Adora closed her eyes for a moment, “I thought getting Force Captain would feel different.”

Lonnie stared at her. 

“Different how?”

Adora opened her eyes, pure blue, shadowed and downcast as she looked down at the badge in her hands and pursed her lips together, and in the next instant her lips broke apart, and her voice broke in turn.

“I don’t know.”

Lonnie stood there, until she realized she was just standing there, and made to sit down on the opposite side of Adora’s bunk. But, she hesitated just long enough for Adora to notice.

“You can sit,” Adora offered. “Catra’s _out and about_ again tonight, anyway,” Her voice grew harsh in a way that hurt, and Lonnie couldn’t help but remember _where_ Catra was at this very moment, and it felt wrong to think of that, suddenly.

“What do you think she’s up to?” Lonnie forced out the words as kindly as possible.

“I honestly have no idea. And she won’t tell me.”

Lonnie remained silent. 

“I’m going to have to tell Catra about Force Captain, too,” Adora said quietly. “Ughhh, I don’t want to.” Her voice changed, becoming less serious and more childish. She was trying to hide her own anxiety.

“She’ll find out eventually, either way,” Lonnie pointed out. Adora gave her a sobering look.

“Yeah...”

“But after that, we’ll be on active duty, in the field, together.” Lonnie tried to say encouragingly.

 _Together_.

That word echoed and seemed to linger like a dead weight inside of Lonnie’s chest. 

She had meant what she said. They would be going into active duty in the next week, and they would all be on the same team, but it didn’t really feel like any of them would be _together_ in this. 

So much had changed, hadn’t it? Except that as Lonnie thought about it more, her heart dropped to realize that _nothing_ had changed. Not really. They were all still here, in the Fright Zone. They were all still failing to navigate within a machine that sought to pit them against each other in order to make them stronger. They all, each of them in their own ways, had silenced those dangerous thoughts and feelings and words, burying all of it deep beneath bone and muscle, fur and skin, scratch and scar. 

They weren’t together. They never had been. Not in any meaningful, lasting way, and not in a way that would _change_ things. 

As she watched Adora close the lid of the box and lie back on her pillow, Lonnie had never wished for anything more strongly than for something to change. If something changed, then maybe _she_ could change. 

In a few days time her wish was granted, albeit in a staggeringly circuitous way.

Adora had gone missing, and word had it that she had defected to join the rebellion.


	3. Chapter 3

With Adora gone, things changed.

But not at first. The Adora-shaped hole that had been left after her sudden departure caused Lonnie’s squad dynamic to shift, but like all things, it shifted until it settled. Despite how very _special_ Adora had seemed, the world didn’t end when she disappeared, and life went on in the Fright Zone as efficiently and effortlessly as ever, without her. 

There were moments when Lonnie almost wondered if Adora ever even existed at all, and then with a bitter tinge of guilt she would force herself to remember Adora’s face. Adora’s voice. Adora’s smile. And in the remembering she would feel the loss of her all over again. After that, all that remained was the fact that Adora had decided, seemingly out of nowhere, to just… leave them all behind. 

This complex, jumbled mixture of feelings and thoughts materialized in a cyclical repeat deep within Lonnie’s subconscious; a destructive and exhausting subroutine on an infinite loop inside her mind. Out of nowhere those empty, angry thoughts would rise, descending upon her like a thick fog; clouding her mind until the day was barely navigable, and in the next moment they would dissipate as easily as steam.

Active duty became Lonnie’s tether, and she grasped tightly and desperately to the very concept. She forced all her hopes and aspirations to ride on the idea of performing in the field. This, she told herself before the mirror every morning, had always been her endgame. She would finally see battle. She longed to be consumed by it. Anything, to take her away from _here;_ anything to escape _herself_.

With Adora gone, other things changed, too.

More and more eyes began to turn towards and look up to Lonnie. It was easier to gain her fellow cadets recognition, now that she wasn’t trapped behind Adora’s shadow. She filled the vacuum of Adora’s absence as quickly and imposingly as she could. Why shouldn’t she? If the Horde had taught her anything, it was to take an opportunity when one presented itself. With Adora gone, Force Captain was again attainable. The badge itself seemed to shine in the darkness whenever she closed her eyes. She was _so_ close. 

Because with Adora gone, who else deserved Force Captain more than she did? Who could claim to have worked harder? Sacrificed more?

And of course, with Adora gone, _Catra_ had changed most of all.

Lonnie had been so busy preparing for active duty and strategically positioning herself as a leader in those first few days, and so she hadn’t had time to notice Catra much. Not really. But as one day fell upon the next and plans started to come together, Lonnie began to notice more and more of her. 

Catra, alone in the commissary, hissing at a junior cadet who tried to sit at her table. Catra, missing training but showing up in the barracks for lights out, tossing and turning in her top bunk for hours on end. Catra, avoiding Lonnie’s gaze. Avoiding Lonnie entirely. 

But that suited the both of them just fine, didn’t it? The time for distraction was over. Lonnie had graduated from all of those past mistakes. What she and Catra had done had always and only been just a series of increasingly reckless miscalculations, and now, with so many up and coming responsibilities, it should be easy to bury all of that as deeply in the past as she could.

Then, there was that one night, a few days after Adora’s withdrawal, where Lonnie strode into an empty barracks. She reached her bed, and out of habit she glanced towards Adora and Catra’s bunk. What she saw there made her eyes widen and her fingers twitch.

Adora’s bed sheets and pillow had been torn to shreds. The blue of the tattered fabric and the white of the thin lining beneath mixed with the claw marks on the metal frame, shining violent silver against sterile grey; the drawings of Adora and Catra’s cartoon-ish faces all but lost to so many, many cuts. 

It looked like the inside of a nightmare. 

That was the moment that pulled Lonnie back. All the thoughts she had held at bay came crashing down with tidal force, harder and more overwhelmingly than ever before. She couldn’t even really put it into words. 

All she could do was _feel_.

* * *

“Did you see her face?”

“Yeah, what does she look like?”

“Didn’t see her outright,” Lonnie began comfortably as the junior cadets that huddled around her stared with wide eyes, “but she’s huge. Like twelve feet tall at least. And she took out the entire recon squad with just a sword.”

“Whoa.”

“How’re we gonna fight against that?”

“We’ll manage,” Lonnie responded loftily, relishing in their attention. This kind of thing had always been Adora’s role, and Lonnie was starting to understand why Adora seemed to enjoy it. After a moment, her eyes drifted to the corner of the room, where Catra sat on a bench, her legs curled up beneath her, chin resting on her knees, and her flexible tail wrapped tightly around one ankle. 

Lonnie bit at the inside of her lip, and then she flashed the junior cadets a winning smile.

“Why don’t you bunch get ready for lights out. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

And just like that, the locker room cleared. She took a deep breath in. This power; this control… it felt so _right_. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed it, all this time. She glanced back to Catra’s position. Catra hadn’t moved. 

“Did you think I wasn’t talking to you, too?”

Catra’s left ear twitched.

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“You’re right. I guess that used to be someone else’s job.”

Catra’s eyes narrowed as she forced a laugh that echoed mechanically against the walls.

“You’re so full of yourself. And you’re wrong, about that new princess. She’s only eight feet tall, and just like the rest of them she’s all _sparkle_ and no _substance_. Taking her down is going to be easy.” Catra spat the words with enough fiery ire to fuel a forge’s furnace. 

Lonnie took a step forward, resting a heavy hand against her hip. Catra refused to look at her, and that alone was enough in that moment to set Lonnie on edge.

“If it’s so _easy_ , why didn’t you take care of it when you had the chance? _You’re_ the only one who saw her up close, but I hear you didn’t lay a _scratch_ on her.”

Catra’s silence beckoned Lonnie closer. Catra’s tail uncurled from her ankle and flicked to the side in something like annoyance.

“Have you gone _soft?_ ” Lonnie’s voice hardened pointedly, and yet there was something _more_ there. What she had meant, what she needed to know, was if Catra had changed. If Catra had changed; if Catra wasn’t _Catra…_ somehow the thought of that seemed far worse than a new and more powerful princess ever could.

Lonnie’s words struck a chord in Catra, and her eyes lit up with burning resentment. But she didn’t pounce like Lonnie had expected. She curled her arms around her knees more tightly and her expression hardened. 

“You’re so clueless,” Catra said wearily, and that, more than anything, moved Lonnie to further action. She took a final few steps forward, until she was standing over Catra, who had decidedly not moved or even winced at her approach.

“Y’know,” Lonnie started in a tenderly combative tone, “Now that she’s not here to protect you, you’d better be more careful.”

Catra finally looked up at her, but her eyes were cold and… pitying. It sent a sickening jolt of self-doubt rippling through Lonnie’s stomach.

“You really can’t leave me alone, can you?” Catra retaliated. “It’s kind of pathetic.”

Lonnie’s hands shot out. She grabbed Catra by the collar of her jumpsuit and pulled her easily to her feet. Catra let it happen without a struggle, and then she grinned, sharp canines glistening at the back of her mouth as she bared her teeth in an instinctively defensive reaction. She narrowed her eyes as she reveled in Lonnie’s angry outburst, as if Lonnie’s surrender to her provocation further proved her point.

 _“You’re_ the pathetic one,” Lonnie countered. “I know you’ve only been thinking about Adora, all this time. I know how badly you want her back.”

Catra’s muscles tensed and her ears dropped sharply. She raised her wiry arms and tore Lonnie’s fingers from the grasp of her collar, elbowing her hard in the chest to push her away. 

“Well she’s not _coming back_ ,” Catra snarled as she stepped forward, pushing Lonnie in the chest again with the flat of her palm; making Lonnie stumble backwards as she tried to regain her footing.

“Hey—!”

“She _defected,”_ Catra pressed forward, pushing her again. Lonnie took another faltering step back as her eyes narrowed in angry defiance.

“She _left_ me.” Catra pushed once more, harder this time, but Lonnie raised her muscular forearms to soften the blow. 

“She left _me_ , too!” Lonnie exploded. Her bitter, breaking voice echoing to a harsh ring against the locker room walls. Catra was staring at her. Lonnie shot her hands out and pushed her back, _hard_.

“Why’d she leave anyway? It doesn’t make any sense!” Lonnie bellowed furiously.

“How should I know!?” Catra growled back as her fists tightened at her sides. 

“Why haven’t you gotten her back yet?!” Lonnie yelled, immediately regretting it as she saw the hurt blossom in Catra’s eyes. Then, there was another expression that crossed her face. A hungry, aggressive tilt to her brows, a narrowing of her eyes. A fight was coming, as thunderous and dark as a sudden summer storm. Lonnie settled into a ready stance.

Catra released a snarl and bounded forward, slamming a fist towards Lonnie’s midsection, but Lonnie caught it in her palm and grabbed hold. Catra sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed Lonnie’s forearm with her free hand, pulling away while Lonnie pushed. The two of them struggled against each other, opposing forces straining in direct contrast to one another despite sharing one like-minded goal.

They battled it out, alone in the locker room. Lonnie grunting against the pain of Catra’s claws. Catra exhaling sharply as Lonnie caught hold of her arm and twisted it up behind her back.

And then, they were at a sudden impasse. Their tensed, galvanized bodies were close. _Too_ close. There was a moment where their eyes met, and in that moment there was the memory of a connection, as distant and fragile and fleeting as a tear in the perpetual red haze that enclosed the Fright Zone’s atmosphere to allow an azure blue sky to peek through. 

Lonnie’s eyes widened as she inhaled sharply. She hastily let go of Catra’s arm and pushed her away with a solemn finality. Catra let herself fall back against the lockers.

For a moment, as they caught their breath, the only sound that could be heard was their tandem and yet entirely separate struggle for air. 

“I just can’t believe she’s really gone,” Lonnie finally spoke between breaths as she shook out a sore shoulder, “just like that.”

“Yeah,” Catra mumbled angrily, looking down as she flexed her hand. “She takes one step outside the Fright Zone and it’s like she’s a different person. Like she just suddenly forgot everything that we—”

Catra paused, and seemed to think better on continuing. Lonnie wasn’t all that surprised. They hadn’t talked about it at all. About Adora. About her leaving. Any of it. They had barely talked like this with each other _before_. Now, it was like a flood gate had been opened, and they were both frantically trying to force it closed without taking too much water into their lungs.

“This is a waste of time,” Catra muttered quickly, forcing herself upright as she walked past. Lonnie turned to watch her go. Catra stopped in the doorway, facing away from her, one hand’s long, extended nails clutching at the frame in what looked to Lonnie like agony.

“Oh, and by the way. Our new enemy? That’s Adora. She’s a _princess_ now.”

* * *

After that, well, Lonnie had plenty to think about. She just didn’t have the time. The squad was set to head out to Salineas the day after next, and there were plenty of _real_ responsibilities that required her attention. Rogelio and Kyle had been kinder to her than ever, and part of her hated them for it. They seemed to realize how much Adora had meant to her, without ever being told, and they knew, at some level, that someone they cared for was desperately trying not to fall apart. 

She wished they would be angry. She wished they would call her out. Kyle offering to do her chores was too much; too _thoughtful_. She hadn’t asked for help, and she didn’t want it. She doubted that she really deserved their friendship at all, at this point. She just... didn’t want the obligation of friendship, or the threat of its eventual loss. She didn’t want any of it.

What she _wanted_ , more than anything, was the Force Captain’s badge.

But how? It had become common knowledge that Shadow Weaver’s objective since Adora’s defection had been to bring her back. Adora’s position as Force Captain remained vacant. No one seemed to be challenging that. Not yet, at least.

She considered visiting Shadow Weaver directly. Lord Hordak was out of the question. She’d never even seen him and from everything she had been told, seeing him was usually a bad thing. But surely, from all the times Shadow Weaver had visited their squad, Lonnie would be recognized. _Remembered_.

She had spent an entire day working up to it, and as lights out neared she had finally honed her courage into a sharpened edge. She _deserved_ this. She would take it, just like the Horde expected her to. 

“Ah, there you are, _Cadet_ Lonnie.”

Lonnie looked up from Adora’s tattered bed sheets and turned. She hadn’t realized she had been zoning out, staring at Adora’s bunk, and her cheeks flared with heat at the thought of having done that without realizing it.

Catra’s smirk was wider and more smug than Lonnie had ever seen it.

“Going somewhere? You really should be getting ready for lights out.” Catra’s voice was a nasally, exaggerated drawl that made Lonnie pull a frown immediately.

There was no way she was going to tell Catra her plans. Instead, she changed the subject.

“Shouldn’t _you_ be getting ready for lights out?”

“Oh, I don’t sleep _here_ anymore. I’ve got a room now, all to myself.” Catra showed off a self-satisfied smirk as her ears perked up and she puffed out her chest, idly raising a hand to inspect a few of her sharp, dark claws.

“What?” Lonnie responded in dumbstruck confusion.

“Oh, Lonnie,” Catra spoke slowly, each word coming out of her mouth making Lonnie’s frown pull deeper, “sweet, dumb Lonnie.” 

As she spoke, Catra’s hand neared her own jumpsuit, and one sharp nail tapped metallically against a Force Captain’s badge, pinned to her chest.

Lonnie’s hazel eyes widened and she exhaled a short, sharp, sucker-punched breath.

“Shadow Weaver gave it to _you?”_

Catra’s eyes glinted bright yellow and blue in the darkness of a shadow as she tilted her head down to look at the badge herself. A pointed tooth glinted outside her wide, angled grin.

“ _Hordak_ knows a good thing when he sees it.”

“Hordak—” Lonnie started, but then she bit her lip, hard, to stop the words from coming out. Hordak had given Catra Force Captain, _personally_. 

“So when I say, ‘You should be getting ready for lights out’, you should go ahead and get ready for lights out,” Catra’s voice had hardened and caught the tone of a threat.

Lonnie grit her teeth and resolutely gave her no reply.

Catra was savoring her expression, this _moment_ , as if she couldn’t get enough of it.

But Lonnie’s mind had gone elsewhere, and when she spoke it wasn’t with anger as much as a sudden resigned acceptance. 

“If they gave _you_ Force Captain, she’s really not coming back, is she?”

Catra’s eyes widened and her ears angled back behind her.

“They gave me _Force Captain_ so that I can _bring_ her back,” Catra spat. The game was over, and Catra’s playful facade eroded into the anxious, pressurized look of someone dangling from a cliff’s edge, or trapped against a wall. “And that’s just what I’m going to do.”

Lonnie took a step forward.

“Get ready for lights out, _cadet_.”

Catra left the barracks with a quick escape. She left Lonnie alone, and what could Lonnie do besides turn and look back towards Catra and Adora’s bunk? Adora’s torn up one, and now, Catra’s vacant one.

Standing in the ringing silence, she wondered then if she had ever really had a chance at all.

* * *

Things kept on changing, from there. And much too quickly. To have for years and years a constant, consistent, _steady_ routine, and then to be suddenly thrown into a whirlwind of difference was causing a severe sort of whiplash, and now, with the promise of Force Captain torn away right before her very eyes, Lonnie struggled to make it through the days.

Catra, on the other hand, seemed to be thriving. The Force Captain badge had changed her, however subtly, and Lonnie hated her for it. Hatred curved into a keen jealousy at how Catra had allowed herself to be devoured by the weight of it. Nothing else seemed to matter to her. Catra had finally been able to let it all go and commit herself fully to the Horde; to _winning_ , in a way that Lonnie hadn’t yet grasped. 

She hardly saw much of Catra at all after that, outside of briefings and field operations, and even then, Catra was a distant presence. It was like she had managed to detach herself from her past entirely. Her former squad was nothing more than another tool to get the job done. Every time she looked at the group of them, Lonnie, Kyle and Rogelio together, her eyes would harden; she’d yell an order at them, and go on her way. She was putting the past behind her. She was moving forward. She had plans. Lonnie envied her as strongly and bitterly as ever before.

But maybe it would be easier this way, eventually. Lonnie could just keep her head down and get back to trying to find a new normal. Leave Catra to her own plans. That should be easy, right?

***

“What’s _that?”_

Catra held up an enormous, almost comically long roll of parchment that rolled out across the floor of Force Captain Training Room #4. She sneered as bits of paper popped out along the sides.

“This,” Catra began in a slow, irritated voice, “is Scorpia’s All-Princess Ball invitation.”

“All-Princess _what_ ,” Lonnie repeated with a deadpan expression.

“It’s just another stupid princess thing,” Catra replied with a quick dismissiveness as she scanned the parchment and found what she was looking for, “but it’s also an _opportunity_.”

Lonnie stared at her and couldn’t help but raise her arms across her chest defensively. Catra’s tone of voice had transformed into that edgy, dangerous one that she used when she had a risky plan in mind.

“I’m going to need your squad to come with us. Covert ops. You know the drill.”

“Certainly do. So, why am I here? You’ve sent us out on missions plenty of times before, without needing to see me personally _, Force Captain_.” Lonnie hoped the condescending timbre of her voice had come through.

“There’s something else.” Catra paused, ignoring Lonnie’s baited tone as she studied the parchment with all the dedication of a scholar. Lonnie’s arms tightened around her chest as she stared at her, one eyebrow raising as she waited for more.

After a moment, Catra turned the scroll around so that Lonnie could see. Lonnie leaned forward and squinted her eyes. Written upon the parchment in flowery cursive were step-by-step instructions, and beside those instructions depictions of a pair of fancily dressed individuals performing dance steps.

Lonnie couldn’t help but laugh.

“Dancing? _Really?_ _This_ is what you needed me for?”

Catra frowned and forced her response out with an angry impatience. “Listen, I’m not thrilled about this either, but for the plan to work I have to make sure Adora is _distracted_. Besides, I’m not in the business of making a fool of myself. If I’m going to succeed, every part of the plan has to be _perfect_.”

Lonnie froze as her mind worked. So she would be standing in for _Adora_. Of course.

“Why can’t _Scorpia_ do it?” Lonnie spat back aggressively as she clutched her arms with her fingertips, the muscles in her biceps bunching together so that instead of her arms crossed before her chest it looked like she was almost holding herself together.

Catra glanced up at Lonnie for a moment.

“Scorpia’s too tall.” Catra replied factually, and it was the logical, unemotional tone of her voice that made Lonnie begin to acquiesce. Surely, Catra didn’t want this either. Did either of them? Wasn’t this nothing more than just another ask from the Horde? Lonnie had been following orders for as long as she could remember. Why stop now?

“It has to be you,” Catra added, tearing her gaze away and back down towards the parchment.

“Anything for the Horde,” Lonnie muttered sarcastically. Her arms dropped to her sides even as her heart raced. Of all the things she thought Catra might need her for, she hadn’t expected _this._

They read the dance rules in silence. Memorizing instructions like this was something they had been trained for. It was almost too easy.

“Ready?” Catra asked as she finished reading and stepped to the center of the room. 

“It’s pretty straightforward, honestly. Are princesses really this boring?” Lonnie offered, “I bet if Adora were here she would have made this so much more involved.” 

Catra’s delicate hand rose to match the starting stance, palm facing outward. Lonnie stepped forward.

“Well it’s a good thing she’s not here then,” Catra muttered angrily as her eyes narrowed with the same focus she might have used going into a winner-takes-all spar. Lonnie placed her palm against Catra’s own and felt the warmth of her fingertips against her skin.

“Let’s go,” Catra growled. They stepped around each other, palms pressed together as the energy of a lightning strike’s electrical charge ran through and between them. Their eyes met, target-locked, focused and brutally direct.

Dancing was so very close to fighting. And to something _else_. Lonnie swallowed heavily and her dark, thick brows drew together as she moved along with Catra in silent uniformity. There was no leader in this, nor was there a follower. They were equals, and as they circled each other Lonnie could feel her heart pounding into her throat as Catra raised her hand, grasped her fingers and they pulled their arms down to their waists in unison. 

They drew closer together, and the closeness seemed to erode some of their aggressiveness.

“Are you gonna wear a dress?” Lonnie rumbled softly; teasingly. 

“No way,” Catra growled as she lifted her hand, parting from Lonnie with a perfect twirling spin before taking a bow. “Need my mobility.”

As they rejoined, Lonnie realized how desperately she had missed this closeness; this _contact_. She had been starved of it, but it wasn’t ever going to be enough. Not like this.

“This is too easy,” Catra breathed, eyes narrowing as her voice changed again, and Lonnie saw in her expression a vast distance. Catra wasn’t in Force Captain Training Room #4 anymore. Catra was at the ball, dancing with Adora. Catra drew closer, pressing her limber, agile frame against Lonnie’s more muscular, solid one. Catra dipped her head and released a shuddering breath. The heat of it brushed against Lonnie’s neck.

Lonnie froze. They both did.

“Scorpia’s heat bombs would be going off, right around now,” Catra managed quickly, refusing to meet Lonnie’s gaze as she pulled away.

“I’ll have Arrow Boy by then. Sparkles will be looking for him, alone, and we’ll subdue her before she teleports,” Lonnie continued, throat dry.

“...This is how we’ll win.” Catra forced the words out, and for a moment Lonnie couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a question.

They stood in awkward silence for a time that seemed to stretch slowly and painfully onward. 

“I don’t think I need anymore practice,” Catra said quietly as she turned away.

“Yeah, no, you’ve got it down for sure,” Lonnie replied without missing a beat.

There was another awkward pause. Lonnie’s palms were sweating.

“So, I’ll be going now.” Lonnie offered, without bothering to salute.

“Sure.”

And later, during lights out in Lonnie’s bunk, when her own hand idly traveled down below the waistband of her briefs, and her eyes closed, and her mind wandered, she couldn’t help but hear Catra’s voice. Her voice, and the look in her eyes, as she pressed herself against her and sighed. But then, Lonnie’s hand stilled. Her eyes snapped open. And in the darkness, she heard the words again.

_This is how we’ll win._

* * *

The sky draped itself red and low across the Fright Zone. Moons hung suspended behind the red-tinged, smog-filled atmosphere like giant fiery cannonballs. The air was dry and still. The sound of the forge and the ironworks, off in the distance, was war’s mechanical reverie; a soldier’s lullaby in clamoring metallic tones.

Lonnie took in a deep breath and opened her eyes.

She stood silently upon the welded-together parapet at the edge of the Fright Zone’s external wall, high up above everything and everyone. She stared far off into the distance, as far as her eyes could take her, towards an empty horizon. 

She exhaled.

This was the place she had seen Catra and Adora share, before. It became a place she had watched Catra return to alone, again and again after that. Now, it was a place Lonnie occupied alone. Lonnie had never been up here before, and as she looked into the distance she wondered what it was that Adora and Catra had found here; what words had been spoken, what promises made. 

Because this place, the highest point in the Fright Zone, that reached above the walls and afforded one a look at what might lay beyond, was certainly a place to make promises.

There was a faint breeze, and as it caressed the bare skin at her cheeks and her neck her mind drifted along with it. 

Catra was currently locked in a Fright Zone prison cell. Had been for days. But not for very much longer. She’d be out soon, and then she’d be gone, halfway across Etheria to a dangerous, deserted realm of arguably certain death. 

Lonnie knew that Catra had only herself to blame. Hordak had valued Catra’s strength, but he hadn’t seen what it had taken for her to _get_ there. Not like Lonnie had. Of course, after the imprisonment of Shadow Weaver, Lonnie had seen Catra less than ever. 

And then Catra had lost Shadow Weaver, and everything had gone downhill from there. 

Lonnie took a deep breath in and let her eyes fall closed again. Her thick lashes brushed against her face. She wondered vaguely where Adora was, and what she might be doing, on a night like this. Her mind wandered out across the horizon searchingly, but she found no solace. 

“Wow! I didn’t think I’d find anyone up here.”

Scorpia’s recognizably optimistic voice snapped Lonnie back into harsh reality. Her eyes flew open and she turned. Scorpia was pulling herself up to the platform, twisting steel bars with her powerful claws as she went. 

Lonnie frowned. 

“Force Captain,” she murmured as she started a half-hearted salute.

“Oh, no, please let’s not do all that, Lonnie.” Scorpia confided as she managed to navigate the ledge, and, after rising to her feet, took a few heavy steps towards the edge where Lonnie stood.

Lonnie dropped her hand to her side and raised a questioning brow.

“I’m actually glad to see you. I didn’t think anyone else knew about this place. Other than Catra. And uh, I guess she wouldn’t be able to come up here, at the moment.”

Lonnie tilted her head. Scorpia had strode beside her to lean forward on the inner railing as she looked out into the distance. Another thick breeze met their silence and made it more palpable. Lonnie was starting to think up an excuse to leave, but Scorpia spoke up first.

“I’m pretty sure Catra used to come up here a lot.”

“Oh,” Lonnie responded flatly, “uh, this used to be where she and Adora hung out.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause. Lonnie glanced sidelong. Scorpia’s eyes were longingly distant in a way that Lonnie found uncomfortably familiar. 

“So, the Crimson Waste!” Scorpia started awkwardly, clearly forcing her optimism through a prism of doubt.

“Sounds like a real great time,” Lonnie replied with a quiet sarcasm.

“Oh yeah,” Scorpia replied, “lots of sand, and heat, and giant skeletons, apparently! It’s... definitely going to be an adventure. That’s for sure.”

“You leave tomorrow, right? You and Catra?”

“Yup! Super Pal Duo, ready to take on the world.”

Lonnie frowned. Scorpia’s _words_ were positive, but her voice and her expression weren’t carrying the weight of them. Of the two of them, Scorpia had spent far more time with Catra lately. It didn’t look like that would be changing any time soon. Lonnie felt torn between a strange, surprising sort of jealousy and a somber, sympathetic pity.

“I hope she’s doing okay,” Scorpia murmured, her voice softening to carry a hint of concern.

“Well, Fright Zone prisons aren’t known for their five star hospitality,” Lonnie offered, concealing comfort in a scathing jab. Scorpia didn’t seem to notice, or had become so accustomed to it that it didn’t seem to phase her at all.

“It’s more than that, though. All that stuff with Shadow Weaver. And then with Hordak. I’m just worried about her, y’know?”

“Catra can take care of _herself_ ,” Lonnie spat, surprised as anger permeated her voice.

“Can she, though?” Scorpia asked, point blank, as she turned her head to look down at Lonnie. 

Lonnie stared up at her.

“You think she can’t?”

“All I’m saying is that things were already rocky when I came on the scene. I don’t know what she was like before, but… well, I think all she needs is a good friend. And maybe a few extra hugs.”

_A good friend._

Lonnie blinked at her. 

“She _had_ friends,” Lonnie said quietly, looking away.

“You mean Adora?” Scorpia’s voice went as far into scoffing territory as her idealistic tone could manage. Lonnie just barely picked up on the subtlety of it. “Yeah, I’m not really buying it.”

Scorpia paused, and turned her gaze swiftly away, looking back out towards the horizon.

“Whatever she thinks she had with her, I’m sure it wasn’t friendship.”

Lonnie stared at her for a moment longer, and then she tore her gaze away, but she couldn’t look off into the distance any longer. She turned away from the horizon, and her eyes settled on the familiar, reassuring sight of the Fright Zone, with all its many greenish gray structures, pointing haphazardly into the sky like so many broken fingers reaching towards the cloudy sky.

Because what Scorpia had just said was true, wasn’t it? So true, and so very real. 

What Catra had with Adora _wasn’t_ friendship.

It was so much more.

* * *

“What’s happening?! Why is the Princess Rebellion _here?”_ Lonnie’s voice carried urgently across the Fright Zone’s halls. “And what’s this about capturing Adora?! Is she here?”

“I _really_ don’t have time for this right now,” Catra snapped back as she continued to hurry away from her.

Lonnie followed her, almost running to keep pace with Catra’s quick, determined strides.

“You’re a Force Captain! You’re supposed to be telling us what to do!”

Catra laughed bitterly. Her pace slowed as she reached her intended destination. Lonnie recognized their location. Hordak’s Laboratory. A chill ran down her spine. The Lab doors were tightly sealed; the metallic silver a fitting contrast to Catra’s dark hair and clothing. 

“Really, Lonnie? That’s still what you want? Fine. You’re relieved. Go take a break or something. I don’t care, just leave me alone.”

“There’s no way I’m just walking away from whatever _this_ is. Something’s _happening_. Something feels... wrong.”

_Something’s wrong… with you._

Lonnie thought the words, but she couldn’t find it in her to say them. 

Catra stopped and turned to face her. Her expression had changed. She was smiling, sharp teeth bared. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“It’s always like this for you, isn’t it?” Catra asked softly, suddenly, and the change in tone of her voice made something twist in Lonnie’s gut as she stared back at her.

“Always on the sidelines,” Catra murmured, “always grasping at the edges of it all. You’ve never been relevant. Not in the way you want to be.”

As she spoke, Catra began to move away from the door, back towards her. Lonnie froze.

“Being an _outsider_ makes you bitter. Angry. Tired of it all. But still, you keep trying. Because what else is there?”

Catra closed the distance completely, and, with only a few feet between them, Lonnie could see that Catra was trembling. 

“We’re so much more alike than I ever realized,” Catra nearly whispered. She raised a claw-retracted hand, and her warm, soft fingertips brushed against Lonnie’s jaw. A place with no visible scars from when Catra had scratched her all that time ago, but Lonnie winced all the same. Catra’s smile bloomed into something wild; an unhinged, destructive beauty that took Lonnie’s breath away.

“Maybe you, more than anyone, will understand what I have to do, and _why_.”

Catra’s hand dropped back to her side, and she turned. In an instant, she bounded towards the door, slamming the key combination into the panel and entering Hordak’s sanctum with a resolute quickness that Lonnie couldn’t hope to follow.

Just before the doors slid closed, Lonnie spotted her. _Adora._ Tied to a metal beam at the center of the room. She had been gagged, and strands of hair had fallen haphazardly out of her ponytail. Her eyes were wide and wild, but she wasn’t looking at Lonnie. Adora’s gaze was fixed on a strange contraption at the far end of the room, that glowed with an eerie, otherworldly light. 

Before Lonnie had time to call out, the sanctum's doors slid thunderously closed once again. Catra and Adora within; Lonnie without. 

Lonnie’s heart sank. She felt light-headed. Nothing made any sense.

“What?! What are you going to do?!” Lonnie called after her, voice shaking as the feeling of Catra’s hand on her cheek and the look in her eyes echoed against her mind. She ran up to the closed doors and smashed the backside of her fist against it, hard enough to bruise.

_“Catra!”_

But Catra was long gone. 

And after that, so was the entire world.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a sort of mental and emotional whiplash after the world, the _real_ one, snapped suddenly and unceremoniously back into place. 

Whatever it had been; whatever Catra had _done,_ was over. Everything was back to how it was; how it always had been.

And yet, as Lonnie’s memories of the fake reality settled slow as falling silk into the back of her mind, she realized there had been something _different_ in that world; something she had never quite felt before. A peaceful, quiet feeling. A calmness. Time had seemed to pass in waves, and it felt like she had lived an entirely different existence in the span of a few hours. A life where Adora stayed, and where the sparks and flames of Catra’s and Lonnie’s animosity died out. A moment, suspended in time, where the entire squad felt _together_ in a way they never had before.

But even after _all of that_ … back in the here and now, nothing had changed. 

Not really. 

Lonnie was still a Horde soldier, struggling to survive in the Fright Zone. 

Adora was still gone.

And Catra was still… Catra.

The shattered, fragmented real life Lonnie had been hastily thrown back into seemed all the more absolute after the portal’s brief respite. And Catra’s words, the last ones she had spoken before it all went down, continued to play on repeat in Lonnie’s mind.

_We’re so much more alike than I ever realized._

Lonnie narrowed her eyes. A bitter, exhausted reflection of herself stared back in the locker room mirror. She had a sudden urge to shatter the glass with a trembling fist; the only thing stopping her was the thought of how difficult it would be to pilot a tank with one hand.

* * *

“Their queen is gone. The Rebellion is in shambles. It’s the perfect time to strike,” Catra fired her words like ammunition against the wall. She wasn’t looking at Lonnie, which afforded Lonnie plenty of time to watch her.

Catra had found Lonnie alone in the locker room. It was morning, and Lonnie had barely slept, and she honestly didn’t have time for whatever was happening right now. It didn’t _seem_ like an official meeting, but Lonnie had decided to treat it as such. It was easier that way.

“I can’t say I disagree with you,” Lonnie responded after a momentary silence, frowning slightly when Catra ignored her.

“I need to force Hordak’s hand somehow. He’s still mourning over Entrapta’s _betrayal_.” Catra spat that final word with a familiar bitterness as she stalked back across the room, pacing with a fiery, nervous energy that seemed almost to radiate off of her. 

Lonnie continued to watch her, and the way her dark hair fell behind her delicate, bristly shoulders. One of Catra’s arms was encased in a tight, black, arm-length glove. It made her arm look more like a weapon than a limb.

“He can’t keep the forces stationed in the Fright Zone forever,” Lonnie offered. “We really need to get back in the field. Our chain of supply is in disarray. Our outposts--”

“You think I don’t know that? I’m _working_ on it,” Catra cut her off in frustration as she narrowed her eyes.

“Then what do you need _me_ for?” Lonnie asked as anger tinged her voice and made it harsh and raw. There was a certain deeper desperation there, that she felt beneath the surface. 

“That’s a great question, actually,” Catra remarked sarcastically, resonating with Lonnie’s anger in a quietly vitriolic tone of her own. She turned, and glanced sidelong at her. Lonnie felt her eyes bearing down on her like two fiery beams of laser light.

“ _Answer it_ then,” Lonnie countered with a measured intensity. 

Catra moved, quick as anything, and in an instant she was in Lonnie’s personal space, practically snarling as she leaned forward; baring her teeth in that achingly familiar way she had done, time and time again, throughout all their years together. 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Catra breathed harshly as a strand of her dark hair fell across her face.

Lonnie saw through the taunt easily. She stood her ground, tilting her head back and up, setting her jaw; calling Catra’s bluff.

“Whatever you’re trying to do right now,” Lonnie began heatedly, “It might work on the _other_ soldiers, but it won’t work on me.”

Catra’s eyes narrowed further, and she raised her hand fractionally. Out of the corner of her eye Lonnie could see the glint of light against her sharp claws. Lonnie’s face hardened, brows drawing together as her hazel eyes narrowed.

There was a silence. Catra’s varicolored eyes wandered for a moment, and Lonnie tracked her focus until they were both looking at the lockers against the wall. There was Lonnie’s locker, looking battered and worn. And then, there was Catra’s locker, with claw marks from all those years ago, scratched deep into the surface. Suddenly, Adora’s absence seemed to fill the vacant room in a way that was somehow too much; a suffocating memory that neither of them could shake off.

Catra’s eyes widened. She hesitated. Her claw-extended hand twitched.

“Do it,” Lonnie breathed, if only to draw Catra’s attention back. She tilted her chin, presenting her cheek with an almost taunting stoicism. She found a vicious smile twisting onto her face, and hated herself for it.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Lonnie whispered.

Catra’s claws retracted as she formed a tight fist, and in an instant she slammed it hard into the locker. The sound of it was so loud and jarring compared to the quiet from before, and it echoed in the silence, but Lonnie didn’t flinch. 

The room again seemed empty. Hollow, like it had before. 

Catra lowered her arms. She took a faltering step back, and then another. Her expression was torn; unreadable. In the next moment, she was gone.

Lonnie stood alone. She breathed. Her hard and shallow breathing echoed all around her, in time like a waltz, an unbalanced, ragged, struggling forward momentum. Every inhale passed brought her further along. And in her mind, she thought about all the words she had wished she’d said.

***

In the barracks, after lights out, Lonnie had managed to find some semblance of peace. The empty bunks beside her were such a common sight by now that she barely noticed them. Hard schedules and long days had driven her body and mind to an exhaustion that made the hard, thin mattress seem like heaven.

She dropped into bed and put her arms behind her head. Thoughts of Catra, of the portal, the fake reality, that morning in the locker room… all of it began to fade away as her eyelids grew heavy and her strained expression relaxed.

Then, she heard the sound of nails scratching in a footstep’s rhythm against the concrete floor, and muffled metallic thuds as someone climbed the ladder on the bunk beside her.

In the darkness, Lonnie’s eyes snapped open, and she turned her head.

Catra, in that moment, had just climbed atop her old bunk and was settling beneath the covers. Her mask was off. Her hair was down, and in the darkness her narrowed eyes glowed bright.

“What’re you doing?” Lonnie’s whispered hiss carried up to Catra’s ears, and the left one twitched minutely.

“Can’t sleep.”

“So you came down here?”

“It’s still my bunk, _soldier_.”

“Calling me a soldier while you sleep in our barracks is really something else.”

“Yeah, and I’m starting to regret coming down here at all.”

Lonnie sighed and put her head back on her pillow. She tried to force sleep to take her, but she couldn’t focus on anything except the sound of Catra tossing and turning in her own bunk, trying to get comfortable.

“Is restlessness just part of being a Force Captain?” Lonnie’s voice slid into that hard, cool, taunting drawl, pushed out through a whisper. After everything, it still felt good to form her words into a fist. Or was it more like extended fingers? Reaching out as she always had been; grasping for… what, exactly?

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Catra demanded with an angry hiss, but then there was a pause and she spoke again. “...Have the sheets always been this thin? It’s freezing in here.”

Lonnie frowned slightly. 

“Why’d you come down here, anyway?”

Lonnie could hear the sound of Catra tossing on her bunk.

“We’re not doing this.”

There was a long, drawn out silence.

_Why won’t you tell me anything?_

Lonnie thought the words angrily, but said nothing. Then, another thought came to her. One so vivid and resounding and determined that it almost frightened her. The realization of how powerful that feeling was draped itself around her like a cloak of hardening frost.

_Even if you won’t tell me, I’ll find out eventually._

With that thought as a manta, and in the uncomfortable silence, sleep came for her.

She woke early to find Catra curled up into a ball at the foot of Adora’s bunk, and her heart twisted up into her throat.

* * *

Whatever Catra had done to convince Hordak to release his forces and continue the war had worked. 

Now, finally back on the field, Lonnie sorely appreciated the feeling of her hands back on a tank’s controls more than ever before. Being forced to remain in the Fright Zone, enclosed within those concrete walls, had been stifling. Why hadn’t it ever felt like that, all those years before?

Or had it _always_ felt like that, and she was only now noticing the difference?

Their newest mission had been relatively straightforward, but something felt… off. They had their orders, but it seemed too simple. Capture the townsfolk. Lure She-Ra into the base. Catra’s battle plans always seemed to revolve around She-Ra, and why shouldn’t they? After all the times Lonnie had seen action, it was always She-Ra who toppled the Horde’s efforts. 

But Catra was smart enough to know that capturing She-Ra wasn’t something to plan for, and the more Lonnie thought about it, the more it seemed like Catra’s plan was meant to fail. 

Lonnie’s mind wandered as she patrolled the perimeter of the Horde base where they were stationed. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Scorpia approaching her until she was almost beside her. Lonnie stopped and gave a quick salute.

“All clear, Lonnie?” Scorpia asked, sounding distracted.

“All clear,” Lonnie replied as she rested her arms in an at-ease position.

There was a strange pause as Scorpia paced ahead of her. She raised a pincer to shield her eyes as she scanned the horizon, but that made it seem to Lonnie like Scorpia was only _playing_ at patrolling. 

“I thought I might just check the perimeter. Y’know, see if there’s anyone around.”

Lonnie frowned slightly. It was so obvious that Scorpia was looking for Catra, almost painfully so. Scorpia’s desperation, suddenly, seemed to fuel an angry coal within the pit of Lonnie’s stomach. 

“Must be a really important mission, for Hordak to send _two_ Force Captains,” Lonnie exclaimed with a hint of sarcasm.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah! Totally.” Scorpia replied cheerfully as her pincer dropped to her side. “Super important. Top secret, in fact.”

“You and Catra come up with this secret plan together?” Lonnie asked innocently.

But she already knew the answer to that, didn’t she? Ever since the portal incident, Scorpia had become more distant from all of them, and especially Catra. Catra’s most loyal officer had chosen lately to spend most of her time in Entrapta’s deserted room, away from everyone and everything.

“Uh, well. Not _exactly_ ,” Scorpia started, eyebrows furrowing as she struggled for the right words, “I mean, she definitely trusts me to carry it out, that’s for sure.”

Lonnie waited. 

“So, yeah,” Scorpia continued with sheepish positivity, “I don’t know _exactly_ what the plan is. But it seems like Catra can’t tell me. Probably for a very good reason, I’m sure! It’s just…”

“Frustrating?” Lonnie offered.

Scorpia turned to look at her, forcing one of those good-natured smiles of hers, but her eyebrows were drawn together in a wounded sort of way. 

“I wouldn’t say _that_ ,” Scorpia replied with a gentle defensiveness. “It’s just… Catra, y’know?”

Lonnie’s heart gave a stir, but she pressed on, feeling the anger rising up uncontrollably within herself.

“Catra hasn’t talked to _anyone_. She’s just going off on her own, like she always does. And then she expects us to just… follow behind.”

“She’s under a lot of pressure,” Scorpia replied quickly, “and she has a lot to worry about! It can’t be easy.”

“Nothing about any of this is _easy_ , for _any_ of us,” Lonnie nearly snarled in reply. “If she can’t handle it, why’d she take it on at all? _Now_ it’s suddenly too much? How can she be so _weak?_ ”

Lonnie’s voice rose, and Scorpia’s eyes narrowed as her expression hardened. 

“Hey, Catra has really been through a lot, okay?” Scorpia’s own voice rose an octave, defensive and harsh and powerfully virtuous. 

“Shadow Weaver left her. Hordak nearly killed her. And after what she did to Entrapta—” 

“What?” Lonnie replied, eyes widening. 

Scorpia halted her own words suddenly, and she froze as her eyes widened. Lonnie’s eyes narrowed as she watched Scorpia turn away.

“Scorpia,” Lonnie began slowly, controlling her voice as much as possible, “what did she do to Entrapta?”

There was a silence, and at first Lonnie thought she would get nothing from her, but then Scorpia hung her head. Her short, blonde spikes of hair fell sidelong across her face as her lips curved downwards.

“She… sent Entrapta to Beast Island.”

There was another long, drawn out silence, pulled unwillingly from the depths of the forest floor and the tops of the trees as the leaves fluttered in a slight breeze. A pair of birds drifted high overhead. Lonnie lifted her eyes to watch them fly behind cloud cover.

“Don’t tell her I said anything, okay?” Scorpia pleaded quietly. Lonnie had never heard her use such a tone. 

“Of course not,” Lonnie assured her coolly, calmly, even as her mind raced and all she could hear was something like white static between her ears. She stepped forward, walking past Scorpia and towards the woods. She didn’t know where she wanted to go, or why. She just had to get away.

“You’re a good friend,” Lonnie offered quietly as she walked past. Scorpia seemed to flinch at the word, and watched in silence as Lonnie entered the forest.

***

_Catra sent Entrapta to Beast Island._

Lonnie’s heart was hammering in her chest.

 _Of course she did_. This shouldn’t come as such a surprise. Catra had been recklessly gambling with everyone’s lives, every step of the way, and lying all the while. 

But why should it matter what Catra did? 

Why did Catra still matter to her at all?

Lonnie stopped in the middle of a clearing. Light shone through an open expanse where the shade of the branches couldn’t reach. How long had she been walking? Where _was_ she?

“Lonnie?”

Lonnie went immediately on the defensive. Her hand shot down to her taser, but she paused for just a second longer than she had meant to. Because even after all of that time apart, she still recognized _that_ voice.

Adora, no, _She-Ra_ approached from behind her as Lonnie spun wildly around, eyes narrowing as she pulled her taser from her belt and turned it on with a flick of her wrist. The electricity hummed and crackled as she raised her weapon to the ready. 

She-Ra’s glowing blue eyes shot down to the taser and then back up. A frown formed on her face as she raised her sword, albeit hesitantly.

“What’re you doing out here? Is the Horde planning something?” She-Ra’s voice was charmingly, painfully nostalgic.

“You really think I’d go and tell you that?” Lonnie countered heatedly.

“...Is _Catra_ with you?” Adora spat the name, and her voice changed. Lowering an octave, tense and forced and different.

Lonnie let out a struggling growl and charged forward. Her boots hit the forest floor with powerful thuds as she approached. She-Ra tightened the grip on her sword and raised it up just in time to block Lonnie’s swinging thrust. The green electricity from her taser sparked and lit up both of their faces. Lonnie’s serious intensity and She-Ra’s strained, heroic composure.

“I don’t want to fight you!”

Lonnie’s eyes widened, and then she laughed.

“It’s too late for that, isn’t it?”

Lonnie raised her free hand and formed a fist, sending it hurtling towards She-Ra’s midsection, but her target was faster; stronger in a way that Lonnie recognized immediately as She-Ra caught her fist within large, strong fingers. She-Ra held Lonnie’s fist; her entire arm, with ease.

“I mean it,” She-Ra said resolutely. “We don’t have to fight. We never did. You realize that, don’t you? You could leave the Fright Zone too. You could join the Rebellion and help us save Etheria! ”

“What’re you talking about?!” Lonnie pulled back with a sudden harshness, and finally she was free of She-Ra’s grasp. She stumbled backwards, taser held before her to keep distance between the two of them. “I’m not going to just _leave_ ! I’m not like _you_.”

The statement gave She-Ra pause, but after a moment she advanced. She towered over Lonnie, casting a shadow across Lonnie’s tense, battle-hardened features. She made a point of slowly lowering her sword and Lonnie hated her for it.

“I know you’re a good person, Lonnie,” She-Ra said, and, coming from She-Ra, it sounded so much more like a _threat_. Lonnie’s hazel eyes narrowed, glinting in the light.

“You don’t know _anything_ about me,” Lonnie spat back.

Lonnie rushed towards her and swung her taser through the air, but She-Ra defended again, raising her sword to block the blow, and then powering forward, she forced Lonnie’s arm away. It was so sudden that the taser tore itself from Lonnie’s fingers and spun away into the brush at the edge of the clearing.

“You’re fighting for the wrong side,” She-Ra said with measured seriousness.

“At least I didn’t abandon my friends,” Lonnie countered heatedly.

She-Ra’s glowing blue eyes widened, and now it was her turn to take the offensive. Despite everything, she still fought just as she always had back in the Horde, and it was all too easy for Lonnie to predict her movements. She-Ra meant to take her head on, using her massive upper body to take her down to the ground. Lonnie stepped aside, using She-Ra’s own weight and momentum against her, and extended her boot just in time to trip her up. She-Ra crashed face first into the ground, and Lonnie sent her down with a hard push to the small of her back as she fell thunderingly forward.

Her sword flew from her grip and thudded onto the ground, just out of reach. She struggled to grab for it, but Lonnie was already on top of her, slamming her knee down into She-Ra’s back to pin her.

“You could have left whenever you wanted!” She-Ra struggled to say, but her voice faltered.

“That’s so easy for you to say,” Lonnie growled.

“You and Catra--”

“This isn’t _about_ Catra,” Lonnie pressed her knee hard into She-Ra’s muscular back. She-Ra struggled, but Lonnie could feel her energy returning. She wouldn’t stay down for long, and Lonnie was putting herself in danger by staying so close. 

But she couldn’t pull back. She just _couldn’t._

“This is about how _you_ left us. Left _me.”_

She-Ra’s powerful body froze, her struggle dropping away to something more intense, a shuddering silence. Her long, flowing blonde hair glistened in the light as her head dropped fractionally. 

“Did you ever even care at all?” Lonnie asked desperately, willing away the wetness that tried to form at the corners of her eyes.

And then, suddenly, Lonnie felt a shudder in the energy beneath her knee, and She-Ra’s transformation reverted. Adora’s smaller form lay exhausted beneath her, one arm still outstretched, fingers leading to but not quite touching the hilt of her sword.

Lonnie’s eyes widened. Her hard knee felt like it was digging into Adora’s smaller frame in a way it hadn’t seemed to when she was transformed. Lonnie, startled by the feeling of Adora’s weakened state, reduced the pressure of her bodyweight just enough that if Adora had really wanted to, she could have pushed up, gotten away, and escaped.

But Adora stayed down.

“Of course I cared! I still do!” Adora cried out into the dirt, “I didn’t want to abandon you. Either of you.”

“But that’s just what you did.” Lonnie countered with an aggressive bitterness. 

“You think I don’t realize that?” Adora replied breathlessly, voice sounding defiant and hurt in a way that gave Lonnie pause. 

The closeness, the feeling of Adora’s lungs struggling to rise beneath her knee; suddenly it was all too much. Lonnie pushed herself up to her feet, scrambling momentarily to grab her taser, but when she turned Adora was just barely pushing herself up from the ground, slowly; painfully.

“Why did you do it?” Lonnie asked desperately.

“Because Etheria needs me,” Adora replied with that simple, characteristically resolute determination that Lonnie had watched her hide behind over and over again, year after painful year. 

“ _We_ needed you,” Lonnie countered angrily, and then she reflected for a moment and her expression sobered and went distant. “But not anymore.”

“W-what?” Adora asked as she rose unsteadily to her feet and reached down to pick up her sword. It looked so much bigger when she held it as Adora. Heavier, in a way that it hadn’t seemed before. But she didn’t brandish it, the sword lowered to her side, and she looked as if she were chained to it. A deep, locked-up part of Lonnie’s heart stuttered, but she managed to push it all away.

“The Horde is flourishing, now that Catra’s in charge. She’ll lead us to victory.”

“No, Lonnie,” Adora struggled to force the words out, her pale blue eyes narrowing as she tried to get through to her, “Catra’s _wrong_. She did something horrible, she—”

“You mean the portal?” Lonnie cut her off condescendingly, “that was a huge success. The rebellion is _broken._ Your queen disappeared. We’re _winning_.” 

“Disappeared?” Adora replied incredulously as her eyes widened. “Queen Angella sacrificed herself to save us from the portal. _All_ of us!”

“What...?”

Adora’s eyes went cold and sad and almost pitying. She shook her head and slung her sword to rest behind her back. She was going to leave again, and suddenly Lonnie found herself dreading that more than fighting her; more than anything.

“This isn’t a game, Lonnie. It’s real, and _you’re on the wrong side_. Trust me.”

“There’s no _way_ I’m trusting you,” Lonnie spat back reactively with a shaking voice. The taser felt warm and real in her hands, and for a moment she considered attacking again, drawing this out as long as possible. If she stayed here, if they fought, she wouldn’t have to see Adora leave her just yet. She wouldn’t have to go back to the Horde. She wouldn’t have to face Catra… knowing everything she had learned.

But Adora didn’t give her the chance. She was already gone, and Lonnie was left alone, staring blankly at the thick forest of trees she had disappeared into.

* * *

After that mission, things seemed to progress rather quickly. Lonnie found out later that it had all been a ruse to trick She-Ra and her friends into taking the shapeshifter in as an ally. Catra’s plans seemed to have only gotten stronger and more ruthlessly conniving as time went on, and part of Lonnie was bitterly impressed by Catra’s brutally efficient resourcefulness.

Anything to win, right?

Catra seemed outwardly to be in her element. Lately, she spent much of her time watching over battle screens, preparing the plans that would see the Horde to victory. In her absence, Lonnie began to hear soldiers whispering rumors, as if she were some enigmatic and untouchable celebrity. Catra never slept. She had Hordak under her thumb. She and Hordak had a grand plan to destroy the Rebellion for good; a secret mission of utmost importance. 

The Horde propaganda was really starting to lose its luster.

In another life, Lonnie might have taken part in such rumors, but it felt so wrong even to overhear it at all, now. She knew things she wasn’t meant to know, and the knowing of it was burning a hole right through her heart. If she talked to _anyone_ , she might talk about _everything_. She couldn’t risk it. She had to keep her distance.

But she couldn’t avoid _everyone_.

***

“You needed to speak to me, Force Captain?”

Lonnie stood at the entrance to the room full of monitors that Catra had holed herself up in since the Horde had started their conquest with a renewed vigor. The light from the screens painted the room an unnaturally hollow blue. 

Lonnie had just gotten back from a two week assignment in the field. Her entire body was aching and all she wanted to do in that moment was get some rest. Catra had summoned her almost immediately upon her return to the Fright Zone. She was still in her battle armor, covered in dirt and her own dried sweat. 

“Oh, yeah,” Catra replied simply, distractedly, as she watched blurry figures and forms dance in battle upon one of the many screens that hung along the walls of the small room. “It’s about the new mission I assigned to your squad.”

“I’ve already been briefed,” Lonnie replied simply as she crossed her arms over her chest, “what else is there to talk about?”

Catra turned her head sharply, but when she smirked, Lonnie’s lips pulled tight across her face as she felt that familiar, synchronized, diametric opposition arcing chaotically between them like an electrical charge.

“I’ve been told where to go, what to do, and when,” Lonnie reported unemotionally, “I’m not expecting much more than that.”

“So _combative,_ ” Catra replied smoothly, mockingly thoughtful as she idly inspected her sharp, black-onyx claws. She flexed her fingers, and her claws extended fractionally. Lonnie pursed her lips, but she could feel her blood setting to a slow and heavy boil.

“I don’t expect any help from you, is all,” Lonnie replied with aggressive honesty, “so if you need something from me, go ahead and say it.”

Lonnie could feel Catra’s, two-colored eyes cutting through the darkness as she stared her down. The pressure of it all was starting to make beads of sweat form at her temples.

_She sent Entrapta to Beast Island._

The tense silence drew itself out. Behind Catra, Horde and Rebellion forces clashed in pixelated black and white silence on every single screen.

_Queen Angella sacrificed herself to save us from the portal. All of us!_

Lonnie drew in a deep, faltering breath.

Catra’s lips curved into a smirk. “Y’know,” she drawled as she slowly placed her gloved hand on her hip, “I’ve _missed_ you.”

Lonnie’s heartstrings gave a sharp pull. She expertly controlled her expression, kept her eyes on the floor, shoulders straight, arms tight behind her back; pinning herself into a position she knew she could hold. She willed away any spare emotion.

But when Catra began her approach, Lonnie’s resolve began to crack. She raised her hazel eyes slowly upward, and when she met Catra’s dark and wicked smile her heart skipped a thundering beat.

This was the Catra who had sent Entrapta to Beast Island; the Catra who had pulled the lever on the portal machine and tore reality asunder. The Catra who would do _anything_ to win. And she was looking at her like _that_. The way she used to, back when they had… _something_.

And somehow, even then, that final thought moved Lonnie the most, and she froze to realize the truth of it, and what that meant.

“I find that hard to believe,” Lonnie struggled to growl out the words. “Are we done here?”

Catra’s laugh was light and sweet and dark. A pitying laugh that made Lonnie’s cheeks burn. 

“See, that’s what I like about you, Lonnie,” Catra continued, “You’re all business. You get the job done. You don’t ask _questions._ ”

As she spoke, she drew closer. Close enough for Lonnie to see how exhausted she looked, just beneath the surface of her powerful veneer. Her lean, wiry frame looked so slight and slender and threatening all at once. Lonnie grit her teeth, forearms flexing against her back as she held herself steadily together. 

“I can trust you, can’t I?” Catra breathed sweetly, her tone as sharp as the edge of a knife.

“Of course,” Lonnie barked out, meeting her gaze.

“Good,” Catra murmured. Lonnie could feel Catra’s claws, light and just a degree away from gentle, pressing against the metallic pauldron at her shoulder. “Because if something happened, if you _saw_ someone, out in the field…”

Catra’s words trailed off as she dragged her razor-sharp claws down Lonnie’s armored shoulder. The metallic screech echoed in the silent room hauntingly. Lonnie bit at the inside of her cheek and schooled her expression into something restrained; _controlled_.

“I’d want you to tell me,” Catra finished as her hand dropped casually back to her side.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lonnie replied diffidently, wondering with a vague anxiety if Catra would notice her heart pounding up into the veins at her neck. 

Catra smiled.

“I know you met with Adora, out in the field. I saw it on the screens. You can’t hide _anything_ from me. You know that, right?”

Lonnie stared at her.

“You’re not planning on _joining_ them, are you?” Catra continued, voice rising fractionally, uncontrollably.

“Are you serious? There’s no way,” Lonnie countered resentfully.

“You _say_ that. But I’ve seen you on missions. You’re distant. You’re berating my leadership. Somethings _different_ about you.” The words fell from Catra’s lips in quick succession, each one more hard, cutting deeper, sounding more true than the last. Even though they weren’t true. _They weren’t._

“You hardly notice me enough to see any of that,” Lonnie bickered back defiantly, shooting Catra, who stood so close, a biting glare, “not when you’re still so obsessed with _her_.”

Catra grabbed Lonnie’s armored wrist and pulled her forward, Lonnie almost fell to her knees, but Catra’s hand came up to her locks, grasping and pulling hard, forcing her head back. Lonnie released a startled gasp.

_She had held her like this, once. Years ago, now. She had sat in her lap, and Lonnie’s clever fingers had pressed into her hips as she held her there. She had forced Lonnie’s head back, and then she had leaned forward, and her lips—_

“What did she say to you?” Catra hissed. Her sickly sweet demeanor had been replaced with something more sinister. Something in the back of Lonnie’s voice was pleading with her to escape; use all her martial prowess to escape Catra’s hold, throw her down, and leave.

But how could she do any of that when she didn’t _want_ to?

A smile spread across her face as she stared back into Catra’s wild eyes.

“Adora tried to convince me to defect,” she said simply, her throat struggling as Catra held her there, “didn’t work, obviously.”

Catra hesitated. Lonnie saw the opening, as clearly and simply as any other battle, hard-earned, well-fought. She deserved this. She needed it.

“She regrets leaving,” Lonnie continued softly, “She misses you, Catra.”

Catra’s fingers twitched, and as she froze her grip loosened, and Lonnie straightened up. She was trembling.

“No,” Catra said quickly, running a hand through her hair and then dropping it so that it wrapped around her forearm at the elbow. 

“No,” she repeated, hugging herself like that, as her eyes wandered and went distant, “she’s happier without me.”

Lonnie watched her, breathless, enraptured, heart aching and unable to do anything, _anything_ at all about it.

Catra realized then how much of herself had slipped loose. She took a step backward; turned away. She ducked her head down and threw her hands to her sides.

“Dismissed.”

“Catra—”

“ _Dismissed_.”

Lonnie grit her teeth and turned on her heel. The sound of her boots on the ground made a sharp, grinding sound.

“Oh, by the way, your new mission? I moved the time table up. You leave in the morning.”

“That’s... not fair,” Lonnie breathed.

 _“_ Nothing’s _fair.”_

* * *

Lonnie left with a racing mind and a rumbling heart. In the locker room, in the mirror, she watched herself as she tried to catch her breath.

It wasn’t... fear that she had felt. 

It wasn’t that at all.

She looked down at her hands, gripped hard against the sink’s edge.

_Even after everything, I still—_

The light’s out alarm, that had played at the same time every night for as long as she could remember, blared over the speakers above her head, echoing to an ear-splitting drone; a thought-shattering ring.

As the alarm continued, Lonnie lifted her head. She stared herself down in the mirror as her mind calmed and her heart slowed, and in her hazel eyes she saw the truth of it.

She hadn’t been afraid. 

She had only wanted something more.


End file.
